Bloody Vengeance
by FiascoWay
Summary: What would happen if Jane got the chance to carry out his threat to 'gut Red John like a fish? Set early Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I've marked this story 'M' because it has scenes depicting extreme physical violence as well as strongly implied non-consensual sexual violence. If those themes are upsetting to you please don't read any further. For those who haven't been put off I will say that I expect part one to be very difficult to read but that part two will be of a different bent. Despite initial appearances, this is a story about Jane's vengeance.**_

 **Part One: Wronged**

Lisbon and Jane stared at each other from opposite walls. A dirty lightbulb weakly illuminated the centre of the room, leaving them in shadow. Lisbon hissed in pain as she tried to slip her bloodied wrists from out of the cable ties. Jane had given up on his, they were so tight he was more concerned with the loss of circulation. Instead he examined the room, hoping to find something useful. He didn't hold out much hope.

Though relatively young, their captors had been quite methodical. Jane and Lisbon had been taken at gun point while chasing a false lead in a vacant apartment building. They'd been instructed to put all their personal items into a garbage bad along with the jackets, socks and shoes.

An uncomfortably thorough frisking had relieved Lisbon of an ankle holstered firearm and Jane of a pen knife. They too went into the bag to join their other personal effects and the shattered remains of their phones. Lisbon's cross was ripped off without warning, leaving an angry red line on her neck, a carbon copy in blood of what they'd taken.

Anticipating their next move Jane had clenched his left hand defensively. A knife convinced him to give up his ring before he lost a digit.

They were gagged and tied at the ankles and wrists and knocked out with chloroform. The entire operation had taken less than five minutes. Their captors had barely acknowledged them except to issue curt instructions. They went barefaced and called each other Ethan and Edgar. Jane strongly suspected they weren't assumed names.

Jane came to when he was being transferred from one vehicle to another. It appeared to be in an underground parking lot. He was still trying to get his bearings when Lisbon's limp body was dumped on top of him and the trunk slammed shut.

When she came too Jane squirmed around awkwardly until he could squeeze her arm to transmit a Morse signal. They searched the trunk as best they could, fighting off nausea and motion sickness; vomiting while gagged was to be avoided at all cost. A quick pulse of Morse revealed neither had found anything. They ended up nestled together like orphaned siblings, seeking mutual comfort through touch and familiar scent.

That had been hours ago. Subsequently they'd been dragged into what looked like a remote farmhouse and abandoned in a concrete room that looked like an ad hoc extension to the original structure. One small mercy was their gags had been removed and some water tipped down their throats. Other than that their world had been reduced to a dirty concrete floor and cinderblock walls.

Jane fought to control the panic that threatened to unman him completely. He and Lisbon had been stripped of any easy means of identification and no-one could possibly know where they were. The circumstances smacked of an organised abduction on behalf of a third party and the thought filled Jane with dread.

He strained his ears but couldn't hear the men who'd plucked them so easily from their routine CBI world. Perhaps they were securing the perimeter or awaiting further instructions. He swallowed heavily. Edgar and Ethan hadn't made any attempt to conceal their identities. His every sense and intuition was telling him things were going to get a lot worse in the near future. He looked over to his friend with a heavy heart. It was now or never.

"Lisbon…"

She stopped tormenting her raw skin against the thin plastic and turned towards him. "What is it Jane?"

She was using concern for him to mask her own fear and her brave front made his chest ache even more. "Remember when I faked that virus outbreak and you thought we were going to die?"

A half laugh, half sob escaped Lisbon before she clamped down on her emotions. "Is this really the time to remind me of that?"

Jane looked at her sadly. "I said I would have called you, if I was really dying. I'd like to make that call now."

Lisbon blinked away tears. "Don't think like that. We just need one of us to get free and…"

"…Lisbon. Hear me out." She stared back at him mutely, lips downturned in dismay. He barely made out the minute nod of her head.

"I just… I just want to say how much it has meant to me. Knowing you for the last three years. I haven't had a lot of good moments since I lost my family but the ones I've had have all been with you. You're my only true friend."

Lisbon's eyes gleamed in the dark as she drank in his words. She blinked slowly. "It's OK Jane, we'll be OK." She a jerked a nod as if to add credence to her words.

Jane sniffed sharply. "Lisbon. I'm sorr…"

"…Don't," she interrupted sharply. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I want you to know, you deserve to know…" She turned away as she struggled to master herself.

"Oh Lisbon…"

With an effort she continued, though her voice shook a little. "You're a better man than you know, Jane. Working with you, I wouldn't have changed it for the world. For all the crap you pulled you also made me happy, you know? You made my life feel bigger and more fun and I really, really needed that. I didn't even know how much until you showed me."

It was Jane's turn to look away. The crisis had precipitated confessions well beyond their normal boundaries and he felt raw and exposed. The room fell quiet except for some furtive sniffles as they fought to restore their normal equilibrium. Jane was the first to break the silence. "OK. Glad we cleared that up." Said with a tone that tried to convey normalcy.

They resumed working on getting free. Jane grimaced as he tried to chafe his cable tie against a tiny burr on the wall he was leaning against. "Whoever gets free buys the other dinner for a month."

"You're on," Lisbon ground out around the pain of her renewed assault against the cable ties. The sound of heavy footsteps approaching made her stop.

The door burst open with a hideous scrape that made Jane's heart leap in fear.

Ethan and Edgar bounced into the room. There was a dreadful exuberance to their movements, dilated eyes and profuse sweating suggested an unknown cocktail of drugs urging them on.

"Right! Right! Right! Let's get the piggies where we can get a good look at them!" They dragged in two battered chairs and roughly seated their captives in the room's centre. Their grip was rough and familiar and it was all Lisbon could do not to retch from the rank smell of sweat, cigarettes and booze. She and Jane were seated side by side, their pinioned arms pulled behind the high backs of their wooden chairs.

Lisbon straightened up. "We're with the CBI. If you don't let us go now every police agency in this state will be after you. Let us go or face a lifetime in prison." Despite being dishevelled, tied up and wearing nothing but her jeans and a tank top she managed to convey conviction and authority. Jane sat silent beside her; looking, processing, formulating strategies.

The two men grinned at each other. Ethan, the smaller of the two stepped forward and casually buried a fist in Lisbon's stomach. Edgar stepped round the back of the chair and straightened her up. His hands lingered on her shoulders, making her squirm as his fingers squeezed the softer flesh below. He brought his lips close to her ear. "No-one knows you're here, missy, and no-one ever will. Scream and holler all you want, won't make no difference." Winded, Lisbon fought for breath but refused to show any other reaction.

"What do you want with us?" Jane spoke up despite his fear, hoping to divert attention away from his friend. "Who's put you up to this?"

Ethan, the more talkative of the two rubbed his stubbled chin in mock thought. "What do we want to do with you?" He leered at Lisbon speculatively. "I can think of lots of things we'd like to do with you, but you're asking the wrong question."

Jane's shoulders slumped fractionally. "Let me guess. It's about what _he_ wants to do with us."

"Oh he's a clever one," Edgar chimed in. Pretty and clever, just like he told us. He was still standing behind Lisbon and his blunt fingers were wandering again. A soft groan of disgust escaped Teresa as the exploration took larger and larger liberties.

"You're half right," Ethan resumed. He squatted down easily in front of Jane. He was square jawed and might have been considered handsome were it not for a thuggish set to his features and a complete lack of empathy in his gaze. Whatever was running through his system had dilated his pupils to the point his eyes were nearly black. "Our special friend has all sorts of plans for you. She's just meat. He doesn't care about her one way or the other."

"One way or the other," Edgar dutifully echoed. "Just keep her breathing." He was an ugly man with thick sensual lips. He knotted his fist in Lisbon's hair and yanked her head back. She glared at him, body taut with fury. A large bead of sweat peeled off his pale face and splattered against her cheek.

"Red John." Jane's flat tone dropped the name into the conversation like a lead weight. Lisbon's eyes cut desperately in his direction before her head thumped into her chest when her tormentor pushed himself away from her in disgust.

Edgar looked to Ethan. "He said his name."

"He did say his name," his friend agreed. He turned from Jane and slapped Lisbon hard on her thigh. "Time to have us some fun!"

"GET OFF!" Lisbon shouted.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Jane cried out simultaneously, but his quick brain was already thinking something was off with the whole scenario.

It was confirmed a second later when he was violently hauled out of his chair and dragged from the room. He fought against his assailants, tried to dig his feet into the concrete floor but was no match for the brute energy of his captors.

Lisbon was left hyperventilating in shock. She tried to quell the dark terror rising in her mind, to prepare herself for the horrors about to be committed on her body. She was shivering and involuntary mewls of panic added to her humiliation. One minute, two minutes. Nothing. She gradually became aware of noises from up above her; sounds from the next room.

She tried to make out what was happening over the blood rushing in her ears.

"… get the camera pointed…"

"…pills…

"…do him first…"

"You know you don't want to do this…" Jane's voice, remarkably calm given the circumstances. A heavy blow cut him off.

"… get that fucking gag into him…"

Lisbon's confusion turned to horror as she got a sense of what was going on. There were sounds of struggle as the two sadists shouted instructions to each other as they forcibly stripped their victim. Ignoring the pain Lisbon redoubled her efforts against her bounds.

The struggles ceased. Lisbon cast about the room, trying to think of anything that might get them out of this horror.

" _Hello Patrick._ " The voice was high pitched and unnaturally loud and made Lisbon sit up in shock. " _I see the boys have gagged that clever mouth of yours._ " There must be a sound system in the other room, Lisbon thought wildly.

There were muffled noises as Jane fought against the gag.

The voice that could only be Red John's resumed. _"In a few minutes I'm going to let them have their fun with you. You are going to be degraded and humiliated in ways you never imagined. Consider this the first step in your initiation to your true self. I'm going to oversee your total destruction and when there's nothing left I'll come to you in person and you will love and worship me. You will thank me, Patrick. And then I'll remake you in my image and you shall be Glorious."_

Jane forced a word out from around the gag. "Why?!"

 _"Why? Because I can and I so desire. This isn't punishment Patrick. I'm going to extraordinary lengths on your behalf. When I saved your life from those frauds trying to claim my work it confirmed how truly special you were. I confess that when I felt you shiver under my palm, I'd never experienced anything quite like it. I knew I had to have you completely._

 _You are to enjoy a singular honour. I will raise you up above even my most devoted followers. You, my sweet lamb will become a tiger like me."_

A fresh burst of struggle from Jane interrupted Red John's twisted soliloquy. Once it subsided the psychopath continued as if there'd been no interruption.

 _I'm going to have your gag removed because I don't want any secrets between us. I want to read your soul as you scream it out from between your lips. Sweet Patrick. Deep down you're going to enjoy this experience..."_

He was interrupted by further incoherent noise and thrashings as Jane tried to vocalise his objection.

 _"…I want to hear you enjoy it Patrick. It's one of my requirements and if you don't deliver I'll have dear Edgar and Ethan bring in your little friend to join us. How wonderful her pain will be. How illuminating. How long will you be able to bear watching her being torn apart knowing it's all your fault?_

Jane slumped. The fight suddenly gone from his body.

The camera lens took it in dispassionately. It's tiny red light burned like an evil eye.

 _"_ _This IS all your fault. You killed your sweet wife and child with your thoughtless arrogance. That's why you know you deserve every filthy torment I can come up with. Because each agony and humiliation will bring you a step closer to me and freedom from your guilt."_

 _Now Ethan and Edgar, my good lusty boys. Let's begin."_

The gag was removed and Jane promptly vomited on the floor. His mind scurried around like a mouse trapped inside his skull. He could feel the drugs he'd been force fed sending blood to the extremities he least wanted them to go to. The thought his body could be forced to be complicit in his degradation horrified him.

He knew he could withdraw completely, float clear of what was being done to him but Red John would know and his vengeance on Lisbon would be terrible. On the other hand the thought of Red John watching, of Red John gloating and directing his humiliation was beyond bearing.

How to negotiate the difficult terrain of appearing to give his nemesis what he wanted while preserving his inner integrity and desire for vengeance? It took a mentalist as exceptional as Patrick Jane's to find an answer.

His subtle, tricky mind took him back to Malibu. It situated him on a beach with Angela and Charlotte while simultaneously he was grabbed by two pairs of hands in the real world.

Concentrating fiercely, he clutched his family close. He was so profoundly grateful to see them again. Angela took his hand. "It's going to be OK Patrick. Just stay with us and it'll be OK."

Jane nodded, tears of gratitude streaking his face. They felt real beyond imagining. Charlotte snuggled in closer to him, her upturned face surrounded by a riot of curls. "It's 4th of July daddy! We're going to watch the fireworks!"

The first rocket shot up into the sky and burst into colour. Jane blinked in surprise; he'd felt the slightest hint of pain when it exploded but it was easy to ignore when he saw Charlotte clap in delight. Other's followed in quick succession. Singles and multiples climbing majestically before a dull crump signalled the appearance of another psychadelic bouquet. The tiny pin pricks of pain continued but it was nothing, really. All that mattered was Charlotte's childlike wonder.

He looked over to his wife. Angela seemed to be watching different kind of show. Her eyes were glassy with moisture and she squeezed his hand white whenever several rockets burst together. It reminded him of the time he'd taken her to a boxing match promoted by one of his clients. For a brief second Jane felt another reality superimposed over the beach. One where a high pitched voice was directing two animals to exert themselves further while someone screamed like a stuck pig…

"Daddy look at me!" His daughter's voice brought him back to the beach. Several more fireworks reached out to the stars before bursting into purples and blues. "Are you watching daddy?" Her eyes were so bright and alive. Jane nodded enthusiastically. Of course he would watch, he would do anything to make his little girl happy, anything at all.

The show went on and on but Jane made sure to stay focussed on his daughter. At one point Angela handed him an ice cream. It was pistachio, a flavour he didn't like and he would have refused but for the expression on her face. For a second the other scene threated to return so he turned quickly to Charlotte. She had an ice cream too; strawberry, her favourite. Everything was suddenly OK again. He ate his ice cream and watched a thousand shooting stars give up their lives in multi coloured glory. Everything was OK while he had his wife and child with him.

In the other room Lisbon didn't have Jane's mental resources to protect her sanity. The sound coming through was muffled but not enough to leave her in any doubt as to what was happening, especially when Red John's instructions turned shockingly explicit and Jane started crying out in pain.

She too was plunged into her past, though there was no comfort there. Lisbon was transported back to one of her father's drunken rages when he charged through their house like a deranged bull, grabbing her brothers from out of their beds despite their screams of terror. She'd plunged herself into the fray, anything was better than listening to their torment, even bone bruises and broken ribs.

As often as not a 12 year old girl was as nothing in the face of the drunken storm of a grown man. She'd be cast aside to slam into walls or furniture and fall half senseless to the ground. She persisted, however, because sometimes her eyes would remind him of her mother's. Then the rage would pass and he'd turn maudlin instead. She would be free to comfort her brothers while he passed the rest of the night crying into his drink.

Despite her fear, that same protective imperative compelled Lisbon to roll off her chair and drag herself to the door. She kicked and yelled for them to stop, daring them to come try it on her rather than Jane.

The balls of her feet were torn and bloody by the time the door burst open to reveal Edgar. He was naked from the waist down. That and the smell of blood and shit sent Lisbon flying against the back wall in a mad panic. She held her arms to protect her head which left her open to a brutal kick to the ribs. Lisbon's vision darkened and a heavy ringing drowned out everything else.

She realised she was lying flat against the cold floor, each breath a tiny agony as her lungs expanded her rib cage. In the other room Red John droned on, exhorting his minions and trying to dissect tiny pieces of Jane's mind. Things changed inside Lisbon. She saw into another world that not even her faith could shield her from. There was a crack in reality and what had leaked through was utterly evil.

The show was finally coming to an end. All the big rockets had been fired and it was only the small stuff that was left. Jane hugged his family, trying to permanently fix them in his mind. He knew he would never see them again.

Charlotte kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Goodbye daddy, I'll always love you." He forced himself to smile despite the lump in his throat.

Angela cradled his face between her hands and kissed him as sweetly as on their first date. "We were lucky to have you Patrick. Never forget that, no matter what."

The beach was gone and Jane was back in his body. He could feel the rough floor grinding into his chest, stabs of pain that moved through his core like jagged bolts of lightning. He was trapped beneath the soulless gaze of the camera, pinned like a butterfly. Pressing down on his mind were the memories of what had happened in the room and his body shook with humiliation.

The animals who'd tortured him seemed equally ashamed, almost as if Red John's evil had been so great as to illuminate a tiny spark of humanity even in such dross as themselves.

Red John. Jane could still hear his voice twisting through his psyche. Telling him what he felt, what he wanted. He heaved, then recoiled from what he brought up. Despite his agony of mind and body he had two things to console him. The first was he'd seen Charlotte and Angela again. That alone was worth almost any price. The second was that he'd walked the tightrope between reacting to what was done to him and retaining control of his mind. Despite the drugs and Red John's perverted suggestions, he'd denied his tormentor the physical response he'd been hoping for.

He was grabbed by the shoulders and couldn't help crying out in fear. He was pulled to his feet. His legs barely held him up, however, and he stumbled against a table before being shoved towards the door. He was half marched, half dragged back to the first room.

He was pitched forward and rolled close to where Lisbon was pressed up against the back wall. The mere sight of her brought him a small morsel of comfort, even though the look she gave him killed the tiny hope she'd been unaware of what happened.

Jane looked back over his shoulder, fearful of what Edgar and Ethan would do. His fear proved groundless. Any desire for mischief was well and truly sated.

Ethan flung Jane's clothes in the room. "Get dressed, faggot." The door slammed shut as if to close the chapter on their role in what transpired. Pilate himself couldn't have washed his hands of it so comprehensively.

Lisbon inched towards Jane and rested her cheek on his back. Her heart broke when she saw the evidence of what they'd done to him. "Oh Jane…" her voice trailed off. Their situation was so bleak she almost wished they were both dead. They lay there listening to each other breathe for an indeterminate period of time.

Without warning a tiny tongue of flame appeared between Jane's hands. A second later the cable tie melted and his wrists were free. He turned to face her. Though somewhat subdued, there was a familiar sparkle in his eyes as he revealed the lighter concealed in his palm. It was enough to rekindle the flame of hope in Lisbon's heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2 – Delivered**

 _ **A/N: Apologies but this intended two parter has blown out to at least a trilogy of chapters. As promised, I hope this chapter is a little easier to take than the previous one.**_

* * *

Lisbon wasted no time extending her wrists towards Jane. His hands were shaking badly but Lisbon didn't mind a superficial burn as the price for getting her hands free. The second the ties melted she relieved Jane of the lighter and freed her legs.

In another part of the house a stereo started blasting out a senseless barrage of death metal. Lisbon was never so grateful to hear a cacophony. Her thoughts should have turned immediately to escape but she was arrested by the sight of Jane trying desperately to put his clothes on. She clamped down on her emotions and forced herself to dispassionately lend assistance until his thin layer of armour was restored.

Jane squeezed his eyes shut for a second as he tried to regain some semblance of equilibrium. He would have loved nothing better than to crawl in to deep hole and never come out. Sadly, he couldn't afford himself such luxury. Ignoring how Lisbon was looking at him, he cast about near his feet. With a relieved cry he held his prize aloft.

Lisbon squinted at the object. It appeared that Jane had managed to smuggle in a drill bit as well. She prised it from his hand and looked at it in wonder. "How?" she breathed.

Jane dropped his head back to the floor. "That other room is a workshop, I managed to pick it up with my toes. Now listen, Lisbon. I'm going to be out of it for the next little while. I want you to clear your mind and just think for five minutes before trying to get us free. We only have one chance so you need to visualise the best way out and then execute." Exhaustion and pain was palpable in his voice but it was still compelling.

Lisbon nodded. "OK Jane," she whispered, "I got this." He sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Ever so gently Lisbon smoothed his hair back from his face. She stared at his battered body and tried to bank the flames of rage threatening to unhinge her mind. She needed to be cold and clinical if they were to escape this hellhole.

She examined the drill bit. It was a thick one and unlikely to break. She could use it to painstakingly dig out the cement around one of the cinderblocks until she could pull it clear. She considered the door as well but it was hinged and barred from the outside. What concerned her was the length of time. She needed to find a way to expedite things lest their captors returned to resume their fun, most likely with her. Lisbon shivered in fear. She had no idea how Jane was maintaining any pretence of sanity after the trauma he'd been through.

With an effort she cleared her mind of negative thoughts. Looking around the room, her gaze fell on the chairs. Wincing, she stood up and went to the more battered of the two. Growing up with a violent alcoholic had schooled Lisbon in the art of repairing cheap furniture. There was little she didn't know about nailing, taping or gluing frail bits of wood back into the semblance of a whole.

Under the cover of the pounding music she leaned the chair against the wall and smashed it to pieces by using its mate as a club. One good blow was sufficient to her purpose.

She picked up the chair leg she'd knocked loose. As she'd hoped a dowel had been used to help fix the leg to the seat. The dowel had remained in the seat of the chair, leaving a hole in the leg. Using a few splinters as shims she wedged the drill into the hole. She now had a tool that would allow her to scrape mortar with a good deal more force. It could also double as a crude weapon should she be interrupted.

She moved to the wall adjoining the torture room and examined the blocks. The mortar was a little damp in the corner and she elected to start there. She carefully started scraping along the edge of a brick. After a few minutes work she felt Jane's hand touch her leg before sliding down her calf to encircle her ankle. She looked back at him and saw him curled up into a ball, eyes squeezed shut and clinging to her like a lifeline. Despite the inconvenience she said nothing. If Jane needed comfort she was the last person in the world to deny him. She'd gratefully be the anchor that kept him tethered. In a way it's what she'd been for him since the day he'd walked into her life.

Even with the leverage afforded by her improvised tool, the work was painfully slow. Breathing was an agony and the concrete floor was murder on her elbows and knees. Above everything hung the heavy threat of the men returning before they got free. She found herself reciting Hail Marys to the time of her strokes, focussing on her faith as a means of dealing with her paralysing dread. The hellish music thundered through the walls and she could only hope it wasn't masking the return of their captors.

She lost track of time, doggedly sticking to her task despite her rising sense of despair. Her palms were bloody mess of blisters and her breathing so ragged it was a miracle she managed to keep on. She'd recite a Hail Mary while scraping away at the cement, then rest for thirty seconds at the conclusion of the prayer before beginning the cycle again.

Jane was out of it for the duration, he just lay shivering on the floor, hand clutching her leg in a death grip. Lisbon would have dearly loved to be free of his grasp in order to find a more comfortable position but she couldn't deny Jane. Slowly the channel around the block's edges deepened and a new worry emerged. Was the bit long enough to reach the width of a cinder block?

Mercifully her improvised tool proved equal to the task and she finally won through. Feeling the end of resistance along one edge, Lisbon redoubled her flagging efforts and in short order she'd levered the first block out.

Steeling herself, she pushed her head through the opening. The other room was in darkness except for the evil glow of Red John's camera. Jane started awake, perhaps disturbed by an evil effulgence from the adjoining room. His grip on Lisbon tightened as he used her as leverage to drag himself up to the hole.

"Lisbon, well done!" The relief and gratitude in his voice acted as a tonic for Lisbon.

Though bone weary she was already starting on the next brick. The first had taken too long for comfort, they'd surely burned through a large chunk of the night already.

Jane shook her. "Lisbon there's no time for that, you have to go through as it is."

She looked at Jane in shock. Surely he was delusional? "What are you talking about? I can't fit through there!"

Jane started at her intently. "Can you fit your head through the hole?"

Lisbon, who'd done just that when she'd first broken through, nodded. "Yes but what good is that?"

Jane bent forward to whisper in her ear. "It's a little known fact but if your head can fit through a hole then so can the rest of you. You have to give it a try, I don't think we have too much time…"

Lisbon's shoulders slumped in dismay. Much as she wanted to argue she knew Jane was right about the time. She had to trust to him being right about the other matter as well. "OK," she said reluctantly. How do I do this?"

Jane patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. "You start by reaching through with one arm and then follow with your head. Then you should be able to angle your shoulders to get them through with your other arm pressed close to your side. I'll help push if you need me to."

Lisbon didn't waste time debating further. Maybe it was Jane's expert instruction or perhaps the desperation of their situation but she managed to get her arm, head and shoulders through the opening, though it cost her in terms of pain and skin. On top of her physical agonies was the foul smell of the torture room and the psychic weight of her recollections of what happened in there. The camera gleamed like a malicious spirit and Lisbon had to work very hard to convince herself Red John wasn't still watching from the other side.

Trying to ignore the pain she advanced inch by painful inch into the room. With a searing effort she managed to pull her trailing arm through. The music sounded louder from the other room; its door was open. She couldn't help straining her ears for the sound of anyone approaching. Shaking her head she focussed on crawling all the way through. Just when she thought the worst was over, her hips became jammed in the opening. Squirm and wriggle as she might she couldn't force them through.

Jane tapped Lisbon on the thigh to get her attention and then pulled her back a little. He placed his head on the small of her back so his voice could pass through the slight gap. "You're going to have to take your pants off to fit through. I'm sorry."

Lisbon cursed. Given their predicament the very last thing she wanted was to be next to naked. An experienced cop, she know just how effective a tight pair of jeans could be in foiling an unwanted assault.

The music stopped.

Lisbon's breathing intensified to the point she nearly passed out from the pain as her abused ribs pushed against her concrete prison. Jane whimpered in despair even as his strong fingers were unclasping Lisbon's jeans and pulling them off. The next instant he acted as a brace against Lisbon's feet and she pushed desperately against him.

Her deliverance into the torture room was as traumatic as being birthed and only a little less bloody. She cast about wildly hoping to find a weapon before the dreaded footsteps sounded down the hall. She felt something flutter against her ankles. Jane had thrown her pants into the room.

Torn between dressing herself and searching the room, she was granted a reprieve when the music started up again. She leaned her head against the cold wall for a second before hurriedly pulling on her jeans. In the back of her mind she knew she was wasting her time but she desperately needed something to make her feel less vulnerable. She poked her head back into the other room.

"Jane, give me the lighter!"

He quickly complied and she turned back to the torture room and flicked on the flame. Her mind nearly went blank with horror as she took in the circumstantial evidence of what had occurred earlier. She forced herself to search the room dispassionately.

It had originally been a workroom before Red John's perversion had turned it into something far more sinister. A hasty search turned up a sharp hand axe and vicious looking hunting knife. There was a thin streak of blood on the blade and Lisbon shuddered to think how it might have been employed.

She weighed up the two weapons at hand and was about to make a choice when a preternatural shiver run down her spine. She turned and looked into the bleak lens of the camera. The speakers were silent and there was no indication Red John was watching; and yet she could feel Red John's malevolence inhabit the room as almost a physical presence.

The camera seemed to stare into her soul, ensnaring her in horror induced trance.

"Lisbon!"

Jane's voice snapped her out of her fugue. She shuddered, then hastened towards the hole. Jane's face was pressed up against it.

"I'm OK Jane. Here take this." She proffered the knife, hilt first. To her surprise he didn't reject the offer. They stared at each other in silence. Both were grim faced and fearful. They'd endured an ordeal the like of which they could never have imagined and the awful night was far from over.

"Stay in there," Lisbon commanded. Flicking the lighter back on she made a final survey of the room. Some cable ties were scattered carelessly on the work bench and she stuffed them into a back pocket. The lighter followed. Gripping her axe tightly, she stepped out of the room.

She'd only advanced a few feet down the corridor before she started regretting her choice of the axe. While the weight was reassuring, it was hardly a subtle weapon and she had two strong and dangerous men to overcome. The element of surprise was essential.

She thought carefully about what she had to do. The axe was not a weapon that would allow her to enforce her will in a standoff. Her only hope was to attack to dismember or kill. She carefully visualised how and at what angle she would have to strike the blow. This was entirely out of her frame of reference. She'd encountered many violent situations in law enforcement but she'd always reacted to events, not planned a premeditated strike.

Lisbon briefly pondered whether she could go through with her plan. It only took a moment's reflection to decide in the affirmative. Their situation was dire and the animals who'd tormented them were deserving of everything that came that way. She was certain that at the very least, her abuse and murder was on their immediate agenda.

Decision made, Lisbon allowed her cop instincts to take over. Clamping down on her fear she hugged the left wall, which maximised the room she had to put her axe into play. Straining her senses, she inched along the corridor towards the rest of the house. The music was set to a truly abominable level, the satanic bass reverberated through her body and pulsed in her blood.

She reached a gap in the corridor. Judging by the light spilling through there was a good chance the room was occupied. Steeling herself she poked her head around the corner and came face to face with Ethan. Both of them shouted in shock, but where Ethan only managed to flinch and drop his beer bottle Lisbon swung a tremendous overhand blow.

The axe clove through Ethan's collarbone and deep into his neck. His cry of surprise escalated into a full blown scream of agony as blood fountained into the air. He sank to his knees, the axe still lodged in place and waving around like a grotesque baby's arm.

Years of experience allowed Lisbon to keep her cool as she looked past her victim and into the kitchen where Edgar was rising to his feet, face torn between shock and rage. His violent presence seemed to fill the room and Lisbon stood weapon-less before him.

She wrenched her gaze back to her downed opponent. Grabbing Ethan by the hair, she slung him face down. She was about to scrabble for the axe handle when she saw the pistol pushed into his waistband. She grabbed at it with shaking fingers and thumbed off the safety even as she trained it into the kitchen.

Edgar stopped his advance, blindsided by the unexpected change in circumstances. The music continued to hammer into Lisbon's skull, making it hard for her to concentrate. She fired a round through the portable CD player. The music stopped, allowing Ethan's agonised screams to take centre stage.

Lisbon finally found her voice. "Put your hands on your head and face the wall!" She scooted a step to the right to both improve her angle of vision into the kitchen and put some distance between her and Ethan. She simply couldn't afford to be distracted by his screams and flailing around.

Edgar remained frozen in place though his eyes darted to the kitchen table. Lisbon tracked the gaze and saw the large revolver lying within his reach. She divined his intent immediately and was firing even as he made a desperate lunge for the weapon. She put five rounds into the kitchen between one breath and the next.

Despite her jangled nerves Lisbon advanced into the room. Edgar was laid out on the floor and his pistol was still spinning on the table top. Lisbon stepped through the kitchen, covering off all the angles in case there was someone else.

With the room cleared, she grabbed the second firearm and stuffed it down the back of her jeans. Edgar lay on his back, grey with shock. His hands pressed hard against his upper abdomen and thick dark blood was leaking from between his fingers.

Lisbon acted ruthlessly and without hesitation. She pushed him face down onto the floor and quickly secured his hands behind his back with cable ties. He writhed in agony but she didn't let up until his ankles were tied as well. She transferred her attention to Ethan. Loss of blood had made him pass out but that didn't prevent her from giving him the same treatment. She ripped the axe out of his shoulder, knowing full well the increased blood flow would likely kill him. Better that then leaving him with a weapon to hand.

She quickly patted down their bodies, liberating two sets or keys and a mobile phone. She didn't bother examining them, just shoved them into a front pocket.

Pistol at the ready, she quickly and efficiently confirmed the rest of the house was unoccupied, all the while ignoring Edgar's agonised pleas for help. His pain was as nothing compared to what Jane had endured.

All the while Jane had been pacing back and forth in his cell in an agony of terror. He imagined endless scenarios where Lisbon was overcome and killed or worse yet, dragged back to him so he'd have to witness what they would do to her.

When gunfire erupted, killing the music and giving rise to screams Jane very nearly lost it completely. He backed up against the wall and feebly held the knife up in front of him. It felt like a toy in his hand and he idly considered just running the blade across his throat in order to end his agony.

Three dreadful minutes passed as he tried to determine what was happening in the house. The screams sounded masculine but he didn't dare hope that Lisbon had prevailed. When her steady voice called out from the other side of the door he let the knife fall in relief.

The door swung outwards revealing his saviour. Lisbon stood before him like a fierce avenging angel. Blood spattered, hair tangled and clothing shredded, she nevertheless radiating competence and a tightly focussed fury. He stumbled towards her and was enclosed in the safe harbour of her arms.

They stood awkwardly wrapped around each other as they drooped with fatigue. Eventually Lisbon ended the moment.

"C'mon Jane. I've got the car keys. Let's get out of here before more people can arrive."

Jane allowed her to lead him out of the house but as they approached the truck he came to a halt.

"You go Lisbon, I have to stay."

Lisbon stared at him in horror. The dawn light gave a reddish tinge to the manic gleam in his eyes.

"Jane! We've gotta go, are you crazy?!…"

He interrupted her. "I can't go, Lisbon. You heard what he said last night, he's coming here! I have to wait for Red John."


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3 – Reversed**

 _ **A/N: Apologies in advance that this will take at least another chapter after this. Rather than delay things while I wrestle with the resolution, I figured to post what I have to give me a chance to re-set. I would also like to thank everyone who has taken the time to review. This isn't an easy story to read so I appreciate it all the more.**_

"C'mon Jane!" Lisbon hated the slight whine that crept into her voice. "We're in no shape to tangle with Red John. You need to get to a doctor right away, you could have all sorts of internal…" Her voice trailed off when she realised what she was about to say.

Jane was quick to seize the moral advantage. "… and who did that to me!" He hissed. "This has to end." His voice cracked on the final word and he turned away, desperate to regain his composure.

Lisbon, stricken, was rendered mute.

He turned back to her. "You should go. You're hurt even worse than I am. You've got at least a couple of broken ribs, don't try and deny it. Just leave me a gun and this can end today, one way or another." He deliberately let his guard down and let Lisbon see his pain. "I can't go on, Lisbon. I, I just can't. I need to finish this and I don't want you to see me do it."

Lisbon's heart sank. Despite their weakened condition, despite their perilous position, she knew she couldn't leave Jane. Like a Greek tragedy she was doomed to see it through despite all her misgivings.

She squared her shoulders. "OK, we do it but we do it smart. We call in backup and get those animals in there off to a hospital…"

"No! No cops!" Jane grabbed her shoulder, not even noticing her wince in pain. "Red John has friends in law enforcement. You know that. If we notify anyone he's going to know something is up."

Lisbon shrugged herself free. "Then let's call the team! You know they can be trusted and we have a much better chance of pulling this off with them helping us."

Jane shook his head in frustration. "Lisbon. Red John would've had people watching the CBI ever since we were taken. The second we brought them in he'd know the game was up."

Lisbon rubbed a palm against her forehead. Much as she disliked it, her partner had point. Her conscience, however, returned to the wounded captives inside. "It's all very well to want to keep this quiet but we have two wounded men in there. If we deny them medical attention it's tantamount to murdering them."

Jane's face turned to thunder. "Really? Really Lisbon? You're taking their side after what they did to me? After what they were about to do to you?"

Lisbon felt like the ground was about to open up beneath her feet. She was tired and exhausted and genuinely unsure of what was right or wrong. "Shut up Jane. Just shut up for a second and let me think."

Jane took a deep, steadying breath. "OK, you think, but I'm not waiting around out here. I have to get things ready for Red John." He stalked into the house as quickly as his pained body would allow him.

Lisbon watched him leave and swallowed heavily when she noticed the blood staining the back of his pants. She was about to try and think things through rationally when she realised Jane was alone in the house with the two men. "Jane! Wait!" As she rushed into the house she wasn't sure who she was trying to protect. Jane or the two men tied up helpless on the ground.

She caught up with him in the kitchen where he was bent over Edgar, having just administered a sharp slap. Edgar stared up at him in utter terror, then his bloodied lips moved silently, prompting Jane to crouch down to catch his words.

Jane listened intently and then repeated back the words. "He texts Tiger, you text back Lamb." Edgar nodded then sagged back to the floor. Jane stepped away from the body. He looked at Lisbon, his expression remote. "Ethan's already dead, bled out. Edgar's not far behind so no need to risk calling for the EMTs."

Lisbon cursed and pushed past Jane. She reached down and felt for a pulse but couldn't find one. She briefly considered CPR, then gave it up as a lost cause. She'd seen those types of gunshot wounds before; they invariably proved fatal unless immediate surgery was undertaken. Weary beyond belief she collapsed into a chair by the kitchen table.

The whole house stank of blood and death and she was responsible for most of it. Lisbon briefly reflected on the fact she'd killed two more men. Added to the three she'd killed in the last two years that made a total of five people dead by hear hand. Was she any better than a state sanctioned serial killer?

Jane winced as he sat down beside her. "Don't blame yourself for this, Lisbon. We had no choice, none at all. It's a miracle we've survived. I'd sure rather have you alive than those animals." His voice shook a little on the final word, reminding Lisbon of the terrible things that had taken place. It was strange how the mind tried to black things out and pretend nothing was wrong.

Lisbon felt sick to heart. The adrenalin high of her escape and fight to the death was over and the crash wasn't pleasant. A sense of horror seemed to pervade the very structure of the house and she longed to get herself and Jane away from it all. Somewhere safe and clean where they could pretend that life was normal.

Jane, however, would never agree to go and she knew she had no choice but to see it through with him. She felt like a bystander, a passenger in a car that was about to drive off a cliff.

"What's your plan here Jane? Even if Red John comes he'll spot something's wrong from a mile away." The words were dragged out of her, almost like she was being forced to recite the lines to a pre-ordained event that would end in their deaths.

Jane's knee was bouncing up and down with nervous energy. Where she was flagging he seemed to be drawing energy and strength. "Red John is expecting death and misery and that's exactly what we'll give him. Besides he won't be able to resist, especially when we answer with the right code."

"Edgar gave you a password?"

Jane nodded. " Red John will text when he's on his way. He'll send the word Tiger and we have to respond with the word Lamb."

Lisbon shook her head wearily. "How do you know he's telling the truth? It could be a trick to give Red John a warning."

Jane dismissed the suggestion. "He wasn't lying, I know. Besides, Red John is obsessed with Blake's poetry. The Tiger and the Lamb are recurring themes in Blake's work."

Lisbon found a spark of anger. "Blake? Poetry? None of that's in his file. Where did you get that from?"

"From when he talked to me during the Grady Ship murders," Jane responded impatiently.

Lisbon's hand slapped down onto the table. "Dammit Jane! You swore up and down he didn't say anything to you!"

Jane was unrepentant. "That doesn't matter now. What matters now is setting a trap and finally putting an end to this once and for all."

Lisbon rubbed her eyelids in weariness and frustration. "And how's that going to work out, Jane? Do you expect me to just sit by while you torture and murder him?"

Jane merely stared at her intently. "This is why I asked you to leave. What I will do won't pay back Red John for more than a tiny fraction of what he's done. He killed my wife and child! He killed Bosco and dozens of others. We know he has many friends in law enforcement and he's dangerous and smart. How many times has he used his network to slip from between our fingers? This only ends one way; we kill him the first chance we get."

Lisbon forced herself to maintain eye contact. Jane's visible need was like a vice squeezing her heart. She jerked her eyes away, then nodded fractionally. Jane immediately relaxed, which made Lisbon feel even more apprehensive.

They sat in silence until the phone in Lisbon's pocket buzzed in notification of a text. Lisbon fished out the phone and it was all Jane could do to restrain himself from snatching it from her. She looked at the screen. It was from an anonymous sender and consisted of one word: 'Tiger'. Wordlessly she passed it to Jane.

He looked at her for a second, trying to get a read on her emotions, then quickly tapped out a one word reply with his nimble fingers.

"OK, he should be on his way, we have to get ready."

Lisbon quashed her misgivings, they were committed now. "How do we play this?"

Jane shrugged. "I was hoping you'd have some ideas. It needs to be quick, before he has time to get suspicious."

Lisbon thought for a second. "The best time to get him is just after he's arrived, before he even enters the house." She looked out of the kitchen window. You see that woodshed? I'll wait behind that. He'll likely park next to the truck. From there I can get behind him so long as he's heading towards the house." She swiftly outlaid the rest of her plan. Jane had nothing to add, putting his trust in her expertise.

They dragged Edgar and Ethan into the prison room. They both felt more comfortable for having the bodies out of sight, even though they lacked the energy to do much of a clean-up. Jane searched the bedrooms and came up with an armful of towels and blankets which were dropped over the worst of the pools of blood.

Lisbon carefully inspected the firearms. The revolver hadn't been fired and was in good working order. After a second's hesitation she slid it across to Jane. While he wasn't part of the ambush she wanted him to be able to defend himself if something went wrong.

He didn't object, just made sure the safety was engaged and placed it on the table. They'd been to the range a couple of times and while Jane was no expert, Lisbon knew he understood the basics.

Her partner taken care of, Lisbon released the magazine from her captured automatic and cleared the chamber. A quick count confirmed there were 10 rounds left. She replaced the bullets, slid the magazine back into the pistol and chambered a round.

"I'm going out to wait. You stay out of sight and only come when I call. If something goes wrong or he manages to get the drop on me, don't hesitate, just start shooting. Stick to the plan and we'll be all right." Jane nodded his agreement. Lisbon looked at him carefully. "Jane, I'm trusting you to stick to the plan. We could both end up dead or worse if you don't."

Jane looked his partner in the eye. "I'll stick to the plan. I promise."

Lisbon maintained eye contact for a long, searching moment. "OK." She half turned to leave but remained where she was.

Jane sensed her discomfort. "What is it Lisbon?"

She looked at him again, eyes deeply troubled. Her sense of doom was magnifying. She forced herself to look at her friend, to try and fix him in her memory. They'd travelled a long, lonely road together, there was a very real chance that journey would end today.

Truth be told, Jane had never looked worse. He'd washed himself at the kitchen sink but nothing could conceal what had happened to him. On the surface he was keyed up, eager to finally turn the tables on his nemesis, but underneath he was desperately trying to put on a brave face to conceal his fear and hurt and shame.

She took a hesitant, half step towards him. Jane did nothing to encourage or dissuade her. Another step. Jane remained motionless though he surely knew her intention now. Another half step and it was done. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. Blessedly, Jane reciprocated, his arms coming up to enfold her. "Stick to the plan," she whispered. She felt him nod. Nothing more was said; they stood and trembled in each other's arms as the countryside around them wakened to the noise of birds.

Five minutes later Lisbon was behind the woodshed trying not to think about all the ways their plan could go wrong. It was easier said than done. Her mind kept dwelling on possibilities like Red John having watched her escape through the camera, or that Edgar lied about the password.

There was no sound from the house, whatever Jane was doing he was being very quiet about it. Lisbon pondered again if she could trust him. Would he allow her to call the play or would he come out all guns blazing? In some ways she could live with that. For all her principles and belief in the justice system, it was hard to countenance the thought of allowing Red John to continue Jane's torment from behind bars, let alone him using his contacts to engineer an escape.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of a car coming down the long track leading to the house. Her heart started racing in anticipation and she ducked down to present a smaller profile in case he approached from an unexpected direction. She tried to swallow but her mouth was dry. The gentle whir of the engine grew closer as the driver eased up to the house.

Silence returned once the engine was killed. Try as she might Lisbon couldn't catch the sound of the door being opened. She resisted the impulse to peak around the shed. What was he doing? Was he alone or did he have company?

A minute ticked by, and then another. Lisbon called on all her training to maintain her resolve. Whoever acted first would likely lose this encounter. Finally she heard the sound of the door popping open. A second later it slammed shut and a man stepped into view on his way to the door.

He was on the short side and lean, with surprisingly broad shoulders and slim hips. With his worn but expensive boots and jeans he looked like a movie cowboy, right down to the pistol holstered at his waist.

Lisbon stepped out from behind the shed. "CBI, Don't Move!"

The figure came to a halt.

"Put your hands on your head and kneel on the ground." Again the figure complied without a sign of fear or hesitation. He didn't even turn around, all his focus was on the house.

Lisbon shifted into a more comfortable stance, her weapon didn't waver from its target.

"Lie down!" Again complete, silent obedience. Lisbon moved forward a step and glanced into the truck. It appeared empty. "Jane! You can come out now."

She'd barely said the words when Jane appeared in the doorway. He was a little wide eyed but otherwise in control. The revolver was steady enough in his hands as he stared at the figure on the ground.

Lisbon moved around so that she had both the man and his truck in her sight. "Jane, I want you to carefully tie his hands. If he makes any sudden moves just jump out of the way so I have a clear line of fire."

The man remained motionless. Jane swallowed visibly, then tucked the revolver into the back of his pants. He approached the man carefully, making sure to come at him from behind.

To Lisbon's immense relief Jane efficiently secured their prisoner with three sets of cable ties. He then stepped back and drew his firearm while Lisbon cleared the truck. Lisbon allowed herself a deep, steadying breath. Her clothes were drenched in sweat and she was shaking with relief.

Against all odds they'd pulled it off. She superstitiously scanned the countryside but no other cars were approaching.

She returned her attention to Jane. He'd lowered his pistol and was staring at their captive like a starving man set before a feast. His breathing was fast and shallow and Lisbon feared It was only matter of time before he remembered his weapon and killed an unidentified man.

She came up to stand by his shoulder. "C'mon Jane, let's get him into the house."

Jane blinked then nodded his assent. Together they hoisted the man to his feet and walked him into the house. He had yet to speak a word or show any reaction. They moved down the hallway in eerie silence. Their prisoner's nostrils flared on entering the house and he glanced alertly at the stained sheets sopping up blood in the corridor.

Jane pushed the kitchen table aside and planted a chair in the centre of the room. Lisbon removed the automatic from the man's holster, quietly berating herself for having only done it now. A cursory search also turned up a pair of police handcuffs and curved knife in an expensive leather sheath. Lisbon swallowed heavily. She placed the items on the kitchen table after making sure to eject the clip from the pistol.

Jane gave the knife a long look. "Once second, Lisbon." He left the room.

Lisbon positioned herself in order to line up the man in front of the window and trained her weapon on him. The situation was becoming more and more bizarre. She felt as though she were caught in a play that had suddenly gone off script. Normally she had plenty to say when taking someone into custody but the silence was completely outside her experience.

Jane returned with a hammer and a fistful of nails. Lisbon started and was about to object when he calmly knelt by the chair. With superhuman composure he proceeded to hammer nails into the chair legs to anchor them firmly to the hardwood floor. The violent bang of the hammer jarred Lisbon's nerves. Mercifully he worked fast and the job was soon done.

After testing his handiwork Jane pushed their prisoner into the chair and further cable ties were used to immobilise his ankles against the chair legs. Lisbon's unease grew. Their prisoner's position perfectly mirrored how she and Jane had been placed the previous night.

Unable to hold it in any longer, she broke the silence. "We're with the CBI. State your name and your reason for being here."

The man ignored her utterly, not even looking in her direction. His attention was riveted to Jane whenever he was in sight.

Jane moved around to stand somewhat off to the side of Lisbon. Frowning slightly, he examined his prisoner. The man appeared in his early 50s, clean shaven with iron grey hair. His features were regular without being remarkable in any way save for his eyes which were a piercing blue/grey. Any doubt Jane might have had about the person's identity were dismissed when he closely observed his body language. The breathing was easy and regular, no sweat, no nervous movement. He and Lisbon were in the presence of a stone cold psychopath. Nevertheless he wanted to hear the words.

"Who are you," said almost as a statement, cold and flat.

The man cocked his head slightly. "You know who I am, Patrick."

Jane didn't respond, content to let the silence grow.

For the first time the figure betrayed some emotion. He sighed in irritation. "Very well, given the trouble you've gone to I concede you've earned this." He quirked a small, inhuman smile. "It's nice to meet you again, my friend. I'm Red John, and you're exactly where I want you to be."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4 - Revenged**

 _ **A/N: I felt bad for leaving you in suspense so I wrote this chapter as quickly as possible. I hope it lives up to the buildup.**_

Jane wilted momentarily before rebuilding his confident facade in the blink of an eye.

He gazed intently at his nemesis, trying to read the slightest cues. Dissatisfied with the result he walked to the table and retrieved the knife and unsheathed it with a flourish.

Lisbon drew a shuddering breath. "Jane!"

He ignored her as he coolly approached Red John. He regarded his opponent for several, long heartbeats, then spoke one word. "Lingchi."

Red John showed his teeth. "Death by a thousand cuts, as practiced in Imperial China." He wasn't bothering to disguise his voice. The chilling, high pitched delivery was replaced by the deep warm tones of a professional orator. In isolation it was a voice to inspire love, trust and devotion, but when married to the unemotional being employing it, the effect was disquieting.

Jane's answering smile was equally lacking in warmth. "Let's begin." Despite another warning from Lisbon his deft hands flew into motion, cutting, slicing, paring away at Red John's clothes until they lay in a shredded pile at his feet.

Red John, showed no reaction at all, just sat there, majestic and unconcerned in his nakedness. His entire body was crisscrossed with the thin lines and white ridges of old scar tissue. Jane stepped back in confusion.

"Not what Rosalind led you to expect, I know." Red John smoothly anticipated Jane's unspoken question. He put on a passable imitation of Rosalind Harker's voice. "He's Just under six feet tall, with short, straight hair, not muscular but not soft, with strong hands…"

He snickered, then resumed in his normal tone, albeit laden with contempt. "Honestly, I'm surprised you took such a generic description at face value. Rosalind remembered exactly what I wanted her to remember and no more. As if I would sully myself with such a pathetic creature."

He looked at his scars admiringly. "The only hands that may prove worthy of touching these are yours." His voice conveyed intimacy and possessiveness.

Despite himself, Jane shivered with horror. Red John continued. "They say sociopaths are incapable of empathy, which clearly means I am something far greater. In order to inflict pain I had to first understand it. I've experienced everything my frail canvasses were forced to endure." His eyes bored into Janes. "I share this with you so you can fully appreciate the pains I have taken to ensure your wife and child's suffering was truly exquisite."

Lisbon involuntarily cried out with horror while Jane's face crumpled in agony. His breath jerked in and out as he strove to regain his equilibrium. Giving it up as a lost cause he picked up the remaining items from the table and fled the room. Lisbon took a second to survey the scene and then carefully kicked the remains of Red John's clothing out of reach before following Jane. Red John had tracked Jane's movement to the door and then returned his attention to the wall in front of him. Lisbon wasn't paid the slightest regard.

She caught up with Jane in one of the dingy bedrooms. His face was streaked with tears and he was biting so hard on his knuckles Lisbon feared he would do himself a permanent injury. Noticing Lisbon he drew a sobbing breath.

"That's the man who killed my wife and child." He pointed a shaking finger back in the direction they'd come. "He's right there in that kitchen."

Lisbon's expression turned glum. Despite her hopes and prayers to the contrary, they'd reached the crux of their conflict over Red John, the fundamental misalignment of their characters.

She considered saying they lacked sufficient evidence to satisfy a court of law of the man's identity as Red John but dismissed it as a hypocrisy. She was as certain as Jane they'd finally gotten their man.

With a sense of hopelessness she tried to convince Jane of the only path she could see out of their moral quandary. "We go in there and kill him quick and fast, finally put an end to this before anything else can go wrong. All right Jane? Then we torch the house and get the hell out."

Jane didn't respond and Lisbon looked away in shame. Speaking her intention out loud was enough to make her feel like she was betraying everything she'd ever stood for. Yet to deny Jane his closure, to risk the tables being turned through a mindless recourse to the law was a greater wrong.

She'd never acknowledged it, but Jane also knew she'd once bent her principles for Bosco's sake. Could she do less for a man who stood far higher in her esteem?

He finally broke the silence. "A clean death. Tell me Lisbon, is there anything clean about today? Will I ever be clean? Does HE deserve a clean end?" Jane's anguish nearly broke Lisbon's resolve. He began worrying at his knuckles again and this time did draw blood. She reacted instinctively, grabbing his fist with both of her hands.

Jane's other hand moved as fast as an adder's strike, slapping the handcuff's around Lisbon's wrists before she could comprehend his betrayal. Acting swiftly Jane stepped around behind Lisbon and eased her backwards to the ground in a twisted parody of the trust fall he'd once asked of her. Lisbon could only shout his name in outrage and manage a half-hearted kick before he had her ankles bound with a cable tie.

No sooner was she secured than he backed away. "I'm sorry Lisbon, but I told you all along that Red John was mine and I would have my revenge." Lisbon could see Jane's sanity begin to unhinge even as he tried to project a sense of purpose and control.

Nerving himself, he darted forward and flipped Lisbon onto her stomach. Then he yanked the pistol from the back of her jeans. Ignoring her curses he secured her ankles to the bed's steel frame with yet another cable tie.

"Jane, please don't do this." Lisbon's naked plea was almost enough for Jane to lose his resolve. As always when he faltered, Jane forced himself to remember how he'd found the bodies of his wife and child. They were his higher purpose, no matter the complex tangle of feelings he had for his partner.

Lisbon saw a little of this in his eyes and her head slumped to the floor in resignation. She heard Jane's footsteps retreat but didn't look up. "What if Red John gets free. Are you really going to leave me like this for him?"

The footsteps paused, then changed direction. Despite her misgivings Lisbon looked up in hope. Jane scanned the room for a second, then righted a wastepaper basket in the corner of the room. He dropped a set of keys and Lisbon's pistol into it.

"That's the best I can do. If something goes wrong, you have an ace in the hole. He was shamefaced but determined, and Lisbon said nothing more, just let him see the depth of betrayal in her face. Jane turned away again and shuffled painfully back toward the kitchen.

Lisbon waited until he was out of sight before trying to free herself. She quickly found the bed was too heavy for her to shift, a combination of the slippery hardwood floor and what looked like the ancient headboard being fixed to the wall proved too much for her slight mass to shift. The effort also played merry hell with her broken ribs and she was seeing stars by the time she quit the attempt.

Giving it up with a curse she rolled onto her back to recuperate. The move caused her to groan as a small, hard object dug painfully into her backside. Despite the pain her spirits lifted. She'd just found a way to get free.

* * *

When Jane returned alone to the kitchen, Red John nodded in approval. "Good, Patrick. We really didn't need her strident interruptions. Did you kill her or just lock her up?"

Jane hesitated for a second, then forced a smile. "I have to admire your composure. You know this can only end one way but here you are, pretending you have help on the way and trying to create a rift between Lisbon and I."

Red John stared impassively at Jane. "Whatever rift there is between you has nothing to do with me. It's an inevitable consequence of your enlightenment. You are destined to become much greater, she is of the common dross that isn't fit to breath our air."

The serial killer's preternatural calm made Jane queasy. He decided to tackle Red John's insinuations head on. "I've no intention of killing Lisbon, now or ever." He held up the hook bladed knife. "You should be more worried about the fact she was trying to stop me from cutting you into bloody pieces."

Red John remained unmoved. "Patrick, you really need to get up to speed. We both know only one person is going to leave this house alive. I've accelerated your development and thanks to your lessons of last night you've achieved remarkable things. I've taught you the value of suffering and the taking of life. You've killed several times since we began our association. First Hardy, and now poor Ethan and Edgar. Agent Lis…"

"…I didn't kill Edgar and Ethan." Jane interjected.

Red John shrugged. "Whether you killed them yourself or got your minion to do it is hardly a relevant distinction. They got in the way of your goal and they died. You've started well down that road, and each death comes easier. Killing your special agent will free you of your vestigial respect for the weak social mores that blind and bind the common sheep of humanity.

When you hear her screams, when you savour how her blood flows you will know true freedom. She will have served a purpose far higher than her gender could ever aspire to.

Despite his hatred of Red John, Jane could feel his resolve faltering. He felt like a small child trying to wrestle a grown man. The knife in his hand felt ineffectual, a mere toy, and in the back of his mind he could hear Red John's high pitched voice whispering subliminal instructions while he was brutally violated. He felt dirty to his last pore and wished nothing more than to claw his way out of his own skin. Terrified that Red John could see his weakness he forced himself to respond.

"Cut the Nietzschean bullshit. You're not in control of this situation, I am. What happens next is completely up to me."

For the first time, one of Red John's smiles contained genuine warmth. "Yes! I'm giving you that! You are my anointed heir. You will seize your destiny in a river of blood and suffering and it will illuminate the path you'll follow for the rest of your days. Enough talk, Patrick. Let it being. I want you and that knife to become intimate with my flesh."

Jane shuddered. Red John's eagerness felt almost like a new violation. He was positive the man was bluffing, trying to use reverse psychology to spare himself pain. At the same time, however, the vile creature was quite visibly aroused and his pupils dilated to black, hungry disks. Jane was utterly disgusted. He briefly wished he's listened to Lisbon's advice before ruthlessly quashing that train of thought.

He tuned out Red John's words and once more resorted to images of his butchered little girl to firm his resolve. He relived one image after another until flames of his rage burned away any doubts his nemesis had sown.

The psychopath was still trying to seduce him when he stepped forward and ran the blade down Red John's arm. For a second there was no reaction at all. This was followed the hiss of a sharply indrawn breath and blood leaking out of cut like ink spilled from a well.

Red John maintained his smile though his teeth were now clenched in pain. Jane acted again before he lost his nerve. He slashed deeper and more decisively. One on the other arm, two to the abdomen and one across the chest that bisected his victim's left nipple. The deep cuts lay open and colourless for an agonised heartbeat before weeping a river of crimson tears. The pain made Red John jerk against his restraints and emit a guttural "YES!" that was half scream, half something more perverted and bestial.

The state of Red John's arousal was even more pronounced and the combination of that and the blood and his cries of agonised pleasure drove Jane to his knees. The horror squeezed his throat and he retched over and over again, to the point he nearly passed out.

"Come on Patrick! Give me more," Red John roared. He threw his weight from side to side, trying to wrench the chair in Jane's direction. One of the legs came loose, making him redouble his efforts.

The noise and the smell of blood and lust overwhelmed Jane's senses and still retching, he lost all sense of reality. He stared at the bloody knife in his hand as if it was the sole truth remaining in the world. Experimentally her pressed the blade into his arm. Clearly there was something wrong with it because it only seemed to please Red John.

In the bedroom Lisbon had been frantically trying to work the lighter out of her back pocket while listening to the drama play out. Her anxiety to be free made her sob with relief when it finally slipped clear. It was an awkward minute's work to pick it up and melt the ties around her ankles.

Thanking God her hands hadn't been cuffed behind her, Lisbon hobbled to the waste basket and retrieved the keys. The final step in her escape was surprisingly tricky, not helped by the horrid sound of Red John's cries. The cuffs finally dropped clear and Lisbon snatched up her pistol and staggered towards the kitchen, absolutely terrified of what she would find.

The impressions that greeted her would be burned in her mind to the end of her days. Red John was still shouting and trying to get at Jane who was on his knees and undergoing a complete mental breakdown. His face was a mess of tears and mucus and he was whimpering pitifully while making shallow cuts in his arm.

For the first time that day Red John's attention turned to her. His violent struggles ceased and he stared at her with such an expression of contempt it was all Lisbon could do not to flinch. One second's cold regard was all he gave her before he addressed Jane once more.

"Kill the bitch and let's continue." Spoken coldly and without out any thought of being contradicted. Ignoring him, ignoring the slight misgiving that Jane might be under Red John's control, Lisbon rushed to her partner's side and applied pressure to his wrist until he dropped the knife.

She cradled his head between her hands. "Jane! Whatever he did to you it's over. You can stop cutting yourself."

Lisbon's touch and her voice finally got through to Jane. He stared at her dazedly. "The knife wasn't working, Lisbon, I had to test it."

"KILL THE BITCH." There was a crack as another chair leg gave way. Lisbon looked at Red John and no longer saw a human being, just a monster that was straining every sinew to break free. Jane's cuts had peeled his flesh apart like so many pairs of lips and they opened and closed obscenely in time with his exertions. His face was crimson despite the blood loss and it seemed like no earthly or divine force could contain him.

Lisbon felt for the cross that was no longer there and forced herself to stare into the eyes of madness. Never breaking eye contact she squatted down and helped Jane to his feet. She put her left arm around his shoulder and slid her fingers through his matted hair to comfort him. Jane was shuddering and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Jane." She turned her head slightly, not enough to break eye contact with the monster but enough to plant a soft kiss against Jane's temple. That simple act of love and forgiveness was enough to inspire the madman to further heights and the chair was wrenched from its moorings to pitch sideways to the floor. He contained to scream and grunt and heave, the gleam of bone now visible at his wrists and ankles.

Lisbon's lips against his temple soothed Jane like a cool breeze. He still felt remote, detached, but more aware of what was happening. He watched Red John writhing like an entomologist with a beetle. He felt like he was forgetting something important. It was second nature to ask his partner for help. "What do I do?" his voice sounded far off, as if from another room.

Lisbon was beyond doubt or hesitation. She placed her firearm in his hand and pressed another reassuring kiss to his brow. "It's OK to end it now, Jane. There's nothing more you can do for them."

Jane released a long, slow breath, then nodded. Lisbon tried to keep his arm steady but as Jane started pulling the trigger the gun bucked uncontrollably. One round smashed into Red John's knee, another burned a path through his hip and a final round tumbled end over end through his intestines.

Red John's groans sounded deep and guttural, almost sexual as he struggled for breath. For the first time there was a look of defeat in his eye; Lisbon's compassion threatened to unseat his plan. Then the evil determination that had lead him to becoming such a fearsome serial killer re-asserted itself. He locked his gaze on Patrick.

"Tiger Tiger." He gasped. "That's the sign for recognising my minions in law enforcement. There are more than even you suspected. They will come after you if they think you've killed me but that phrase will buy their loyalty." He allowed himself an ear splitting scream to try and master the pain.

"You'll find the location of my house amongst the documents in my truck. Go there as soon as possible. I've recorded materials there that will further your education." He smiled with bloody teeth, it was both paternal and hungry and Lisbon would never forget it. " You will become so…" A loud retort cut him short.

The shot smashed into Red John's skull at point blank range. Jane kept pulling the trigger and a further six bullets tore through Red John's body like a pack of eager hounds. The killer's voice was finally stilled.

Lisbon's eyes stung from the sweat that drenched her body. Jane sagged to the floor, nearly taking her with him. She collapsed beside him and tried to recover from the exhaustion that threatened to snuff out her consciousness.

She allowed herself five minutes of rubbing Jane's back as he hugged his knees and cried, overcome with the sense of release for finally having achieved his vengeance. Lisbon wished she could stay with him all day but there was far too much to be done. Dragging herself back to her feet felt harder than anything she'd attempted that day.

She walked to the sink on rubbery legs and sluiced herself down with handfuls of water. She gazed sightlessly out the window. It was finally over, she couldn't quite believe it. Now all that remained was trying to spare Jane from the consequences of his actions. She forced herself to think through what needed to be done, planning out each step in sequence. There wouldn't be time for second guessing or regrets.

Fifteen minutes later Lisbon was driving Red John's truck off the property with Jane lying insensible in the passenger seat. She figured they had a half hour at most before the gas in the house ignited and along with the petrol she'd liberally doused as an accelerant, would reduce every trace of Red John to ashes.

Once they'd put some miles between themselves and the nightmare farm she'd find a payphone and reach out to Hightower. Tackling the aftermath would require staunch allies with political clout and discretion. She glanced over at Jane in the passenger seat. He desperately needed medical help and providing that without it going on the record was precisely why she needed to bring her boss into this.

Resolved to her course of action, Lisbon determined to see it though. If she just focussed on one step at a time, she might just get through this without falling apart. The site of their suffering receded in distance if not in memory.

She and Jane were starting on a new journey, one that might prove as difficult and heartbreaking as Jane's quest for vengeance.

 _ **A/N: Now I'm left with something of a dilemma. When I first thought of this story I couldn't conceive going beyond Jane's act of vengeance. Now that we're here I feel like things might be a little unfinished. I hope Jane and Lisbon's actions feel justified. It's hard to know what anyone would do in the face of true evil. Thank you to everyone who read this story or took the time to write a review. I know it wasn't an easy read.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5 - Harried**

 _ **AN: Thank you to all the reviewers who expressed interest in this story continuing. As I thought about what Jane and Lisbon went through I realised they deserved to have more of their story told.**_

Jane slowly came to awareness as he bounced around in Red John's truck. He was dimly aware of Lisbon talking with Hightower on a burner phone as she grimly navigated their vehicle down a secondary highway.

He thought back over recent events and felt his grasp on sanity begin to fail as a dozens of conflicting memories and emotions demanded their share of bandwidth. It was overwhelming and he knew the task of processing it all would turn him into a wretched mess. With an effort he tried to stop the rush of feelings before they burst his carefully constructed dam walls. There was still too much to do.

He briefly contemplated just letting go. There was something very tempting about becoming a drooling basket case, to give up on even his basic bodily needs and abrogate the responsibility to someone else. Or better yet, to simply die. The oblivion of death would allow him to finally lay down his wearisome burden. Red John's death had squared the ledger, the obligation to his family was met.

A small hand came to rest on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. He peered through his lashes at Teresa. She was experiencing a great deal of pain from her injuries as she wrestled with the unfriendly steering. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, as she conversed with Hightower on speaker phone while trying to navigate rough, unfamiliar roads. Yet she still sought to give comfort rather than claim the succour that was due herself.

A stab of guilt squeezed his eyes shut. Her compassion was a timely reminder of other obligations he'd accumulated. Death might be easy for him but it would be the ultimate betrayal of her faith. Furthermore he had to remain functional in order to help her deal with the messy and dangerous aftermath.

With an effort he forced himself to relax in order to begin a series of begin a series of mental contortions. In effect he planned to rob Peter to pay Paul; a very dangerous proposition but one to which he couldn't see an alternative.

Once he'd achieved the requisite state of calm he imagined a deep cave along the route of his memory palace. He placed it near Joplin Missouri where he'd once boasted of memorising the devil horned dancer. He carefully pictured the cave's labyrinthine depths, mapping out each secret nook and cranny with his mind's eye. It was dark and deep, a place completely hidden from everyone and everything.

He savoured its cool silence, the fact that no-one in the world could know where it was. Then he carefully thought of one bad memory. That of the butchered remains of his wife as he found her under Red Johns mark. He focussed on that memory to the exclusion of all else. He regarded it, hefted it in his mind, then carefully sent it floating deep into the cave. In his mind he watched it float gently inside and alight in a small quite corner.

He allowed himself a deep breath, then summoned another memory. This one of how Charlotte appeared. With infinite care he laid her to rest next to her mother, then sealed their little alcove off from the rest of the cave.

Other memories followed, a few others receiving similar caring treatment but most were cast inside with violence and anger, sent howling into rooms that burned like hellfire. Red John. Ethan. Edgar. The things they'd done to him, the things he'd done to Red John. Images, impressions, smells, guilt, agony, shame. One by one they were buried deep underground until he could feel the cave metaphorically straining at the seams.

Once he was finished he imagined a giant vault door sealing the cave. He pictured its monumental strength, a colossus of iron and adamantine to put Fort Knox to shame. Straining against the hellish weight he slammed the door shut, picturing a fit so tight not even a molecule of evil could escape. One by one he engaged the series of intricate locks and seals that ensure it could never be opened.

He considered the door as he stood panting under the blazing Missouri sun. It should have been enough but he could already sense the horrible memories pounding against the door to get out. He willed himself backwards, moving miles away in the blink of an eye. Yet no matter how he turned he would feel the cave and the peril at the gates. He swiftly pictured a mountain that dwarfed Everest and brought it down upon the cave like a hammer against god's own anvil.

One the noise and smoke cleared he carefully took stock of his senses. The cave was still there, he knew, but the sense of threat was diminished almost to the point of nothingness. He sighed in relief. It was done. While the door held, he'd guaranteed himself a half-life. His mind would be cold and rational though little capable of emotion.

It was a price he was willing to pay to close the chapter on Red John's minions, to finally end his evil influence on the world. Jane didn't deceive himself, however. The reckoning was postponed but not averted. The fury when it finally struck would be compounded by the time it was denied.

The sun was going down by the time Jane returned to conscious thought. He felt back in control, though the sense of detachment that came with it was a little off putting.

Lisbon was visibly flagging, hunched over in her seat and periodically trying to force herself to wakefulness.

"Lisbon," he said gently. "Do you want me to drive a little?"

She glanced in his direction. Jane still looked terrible but something about him had changed. He still wasn't his usual self but the edginess and madness was gone. "How are you feeling?"

Jane swallowed his standard blithe response and forced himself to be a little more honest. "I'm managing. Sorry I zoned out for a while. Where are we going?"

Lisbon returned her attention to the road. "Travis airbase hospital. Hightower's called in some favours and we'll get treatment there on the down low. We'll be there in an hour."

Jane didn't seem happy about visiting a hospital but didn't object. "Did you find the documents he mentioned?"

Lisbon gestured at the glove box. "Driver's licence and registration papers."

Jane rummaged around, then squinted at the license. "Liam Slater. Never heard of him." He examined the picture critically. For what it was worth, the features matched Red John's. "He's only a couple of hours from the airbase. We can go there tomorrow."

Lisbon bit short her objection. Red John was dead but his network was still alive. They needed to be quick and decisive if they were to catch the roaches before they hid from the light. Hightower was going to join them tomorrow to plan out how to play things.

"Tomorrow," she agreed. She spared him a quick glance before returning her attention to the road. Jane had slumped back in his seat, face crinkled in pain. Lisbon wanted to let him rest but a shudder of fatigue made the car lurch on the road. "You're gonna have to talk to me Jane or we won't even make it to Travis."

For the next hour they talked through options of searching Red John's house and how it could be legitimately discovered by the police and identified as the home of the serial killer.

* * *

 _Edgar was choking her so hard she could feel the crackle of cartilage. Ethan was wrenching her jeans down, further tormenting her bruised and abraded hips. Red John's high pitched parody of a voice egged them on. "Well done boys, you did such a fine job with Patrick you've earned yourself a nice reward. Take your time."_

 _Lisbon gasped and clawed and struggled for air but to no avail. She felt a rough hand slide down her belly before fisting itself in her underwear. The tiny pain of pinched hair stood out in contrast to the agony the rest of her was enduring._

 _A groan was wrenched from deep within her, and she lolled to her side. Through her darkening vision she saw Jane with his back against the cinderblock wall. He was as pale as a sheet and his shaking hands were trying to hold together the bloody ruins of his intestines. His eyes beseeched her like those of a war orphan. "Help me Lisbon…"_

Lisbon woke so violently she smashed her forearm on the bed rail. The effort of jerking upright played absolute hell with broken ribs and she cried out in pain. Even with her eyes open the nightmare was so vivid she was still staring at Jane's ruined body. Alone in the room she sobbed and shuddered amidst her twisted and sweat soaked sheets.

When some measure of composure returned she checked the time. If was just past one in the afternoon. She'd been asleep for over 16 hours, yet she still felt exhausted. Her sheets stank of sweat and fear and yet the temptation to hide under them and go back to sleep was nearly overwhelming.

Instead she swung her feet over the side and once the dizziness passed, tottered towards the shower. She groaned in pleasure as the scalding water pounded her body, even though her nerve-ending screamed in pain as a dozens of cuts and bruises were scoured by the flow. She deliberately kept her eyes closed, not yet ready to see the ugly marks left by her travails.

Adjusted the spray, she sank gratefully onto the shower bench. Lisbon had an hour before Hightower arrived and she intended to make the most of it. Breathed in the steam, she coughed reflexively, causing her ribs to protest in agony. She immediately regretted not having taken the time swallow some painkillers. The doctor had been most insistent on the importance of good pain management in order to avoid complications from her broken ribs.

"Complications." Lisbon thought bitterly. Her life was nothing but complications despite having finally killed Red John. She wondered how her favourite complication was bearing up in the adjoining room.

As they'd approached the hospital Jane had become more withdrawn, tight-lipped. Lisbon could see the humiliation and shame in his eyes at the thought of the hated doctors becoming privy to what had been done to him. It would be compounded by the indignities he'd have to suffer as they treated his injuries.

Despite her own poor condition, Lisbon wanted nothing but to comfort him. She knew, however, that having her around would only compound his perceived humiliation. She'd contented herself with instructing the doctors to mildly sedate Jane once he'd been treated. The gift of oblivion, albeit temporary, was the most she could offer her partner.

Thinking about what had been done to Jane and the enormity of what was still to come had her skirting dangerously close to the abyss. She forced herself to switch off the water and gingerly towel herself dry. She needed to focus on progressing a step at a time lest she suffer a breakdown.

The next step was to get herself clothed. After that, and assuming her hands stopped shaking, she'd go meet with Hightower. Lisbon dropped her towel on the floor of the bathroom. It was covered with pink and red spots, testimony to the abuse her body had endured. She idly wondered whether she'd end up covered sporting a collection of scars like the map of a galaxy, then dismissed the thought. With her pale skin they'd hopefully not be that obvious.

She dressed herself in the unassuming sweatpants, singlet and hoodie she'd purchased the previous day. Feeling decidedly naked without her phone, badge or gun she went to meet with her boss.

Hightower was seated in the cafeteria. She stood on seeing Lisbon and gave her an awkward embrace. While the two women had come to understand and respect each other, they'd not quite overcome their strained beginning. Nevertheless, Hightower had come through when needed and the only reason Lisbon wasn't out of her mind with stress was the clear evidence her boss had her back.

Hightower released Lisbon and resumed her seat. "How are you?"

Lisbon didn't even attempt a pretence at normality. "I slept for the last 15 hours and still feel like crap. But I'll manage," she hastily added.

Hightower's lips quirked. Don't worry, I won't pull you from the case, though every reg says you should be on mandatory lead."

"I know," Lisbon sighed. Believe me I'm all for it but with what we know of Red John's secret network, we have to act fast."

Hightower leaned forward, suddenly all business. "The key to playing this is to bring Red John's house into play."

Lisbon rubbed her forehead. "What about his car? We know his home address is registered against the plates. We ditch the car somewhere public on State land and torch it. That gets rid of the evidence that Jane and I were in it but leaves the plates to run a check.

From there you get it called in and have some friendly uniforms go check it out and then call us in when they find something suspicious…" Her voice trailed away when she noticed Hightower looking at her oddly. Replaying the conversation in her mind, she blushed. Clearly Jane's devious ways had rubbed off on her.

Hightower's mood eased when she saw Lisbon's reaction. She placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Normally I'd fire any cop who came up with something like that but Red John never played by the rules and neither can we until we root out his corrupt society.

I was going to have the car stripped down at a chop shop the FBI is running as a sting operation but your idea is much better. The CBI will be called in on the case by tomorrow afternoon. I want you and Jane to check it out before forensics arrive. I'll make sure your team catches the case."

She slid an envelope over to Lisbon. "That's some walking around money. You and Jane need to stay off the grid until we know exactly what we're up against."

Lisbon slid the envelope into her sweatshirt and stood up. "Thanks boss, we really owe you."

Hightower came to her feet as well and this time her hug was a great deal warmer. "You take care of yourself and Patrick. Don't take any chances. I expect to hear from you as soon as you learn something." She let go of her hold and walked out of the room without a backwards glance. The hardest lesson of command was to learn to trust your people and their judgement.

Lisbon watched the back of her boss to the door and then resumed her seat. She tapped a finger against the envelope as she pondered her next move. Jane was due to wake up soon and she needed to think of something to keep him occupied until they could visit the house. The last thing she needed was for him to go charging headlong into danger before the team was in place.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6 - Revealed**

 _ **A/N: Apologies for the tardiness of this chapter, I've not only been struggling with how to proceed but also caught up in an exciting collaboration with Thorntons. Hopefully this chapter makes sense, I can't tell anymore.**_

The return to consciousness was not welcome. Even with his eyes shut Jane could determine he was alone in a hospital room. He consulted his internal clock and frowned. It felt like he'd been out for at least a day, which meant a mild sedative had been pushed through his IV.

A quick check of his memory palace confirmed the caves near Joplin Missouri were still secure though there was rubble at the base of the mountain. Jane sighed audibly. He was still alive. He took a few minutes to make a catalogue of his various aches and pains. A heavy blanket of morphine was still dulling his senses but enough was coming through to tell him recovery was going to be something of a process.

Jane recalled the various examinations, blood tests and lectures on proscribed drugs regimes he'd been forced to endure and shuddered. Still with his eyes shut he contemplated the day that lay ahead and played the age old game of trying to find a good reason to get up.

He immediately ran into a problem. For many years reason one had always been "Find and kill Red John." Now that was gone and he couldn't even afford the luxury of trying to process that. Well, maybe he had to press on with some of his other old standbys.

2\. Make sure I don't disappoint Angela by being even more pathetic than I already am.

3\. Take the opportunity to spend at least five minutes in conversation with someone.

4\. Learn something new.

5\. Find one tiny thing to be happy about.

" _It will have to do_ ," he concluded. Then, unbidden, another reason welled up and went to the top of the list.

1\. Be there for Teresa Lisbon.

A discrete knock at the door got his attention. A moment later his number one reason for getting up was in the room. "Hey Jane. How do you feel about blowing this popsicle stand?"

The attempt at humour was welcome, though she didn't sell it well. Lisbon was too obviously concerned he was about to fall apart.

Jane forced a smile and was surprised when it almost felt real. He sat up with a groan and slid his legs over the edge of the bed. The catch of the IV at his arm reminded him it wasn't quite so easy. "Do you think you could get a nurse to unhook me?"

Flustered, Lisbon muttered something unintelligible and rushed off to find help. Jane breathed out in relief. It was hard to take the pain in Lisbon's eyes when she looked at him. Locking away his memories and angst could only do so much when he was faced with fresh reminders of what happened.

An hour and a half later they were finally on the road. Lisbon was driving with Jane riding shotgun, a large bag full of prescription drugs, dressings and other paraphernalia at his feet. It wasn't all for him and he was reminded again of what his partner must have endured.

Lisbon had updated him on the conversation with Hightower and to her surprise he hadn't objected to the plan. Jane could see the justice in her fear he would go haring off after the next big lead. The truth was, however, that motivation had died with Red John. He felt like he was just going through the motions to finish the final unsavoury details before he could slide into oblivion.

Liam Slater/Red John's address was in a town with the unlikely name of Moses. Lisbon drove on through to nearby Calistoga where Lisbon had found accommodaton. The battered old Ford provided through Hightower's connections looked out of place in the mid range motel and Lisbon made sure to drive through right to the back.

Cash money secured a twin share with no questions asked. The attached restaurant was deemed good enough to the exhausted pair and after a listless meal they went to their room. By unspoken consent Jane took the bag of medical supplies and retreated into the bathroom for a long spell. Too tired to even put on the TV Lisbon crashed onto one of the beds.

A gentle touch on the shoulder wokevher and she took in the unlikely sight of Jane dressed in a t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. He extended a hand and helped her to her feet. With a groan Lisbon went to soothe her aching bones in the shower.

The lights were off when she finally emerged. Jane was curled up in bed, facing the wall. His body was rocking gently in an attempt to find comfort. Lisbon looked at her bed and flashed back to the horrific nightmare that woke her that morning; the strong hands grabbing her body and the way hope died inside her.

She began shivering despite the warmth. The single bed looked colder and more remote the longer she contemplated the night ahead. The events of their capture and the long list of things they still needed to do began to crowd in. She'd never felt so overwhelmed.

A whisper broke the silence. "Lisbon. Can I ask you something?"

She jerked, then turned towards Jane. "Sure. Anything."

Jane swallowed audibly. "Do you think you could hold me. Just for a little while?" His voice was cracked on the final word, the fear of rejection evident.

Lisbon's worries immediately disappeared. The need to comfort, to succour Jane erased all concern. "Of course, you big dummy. You only had to ask." She stepped to his bed where he was still facing away from her. "Scooch over."

Jane obediently squirmed closer towards the wall and moments later Lisbon was spooned against him with an arm thrown across his waist. Her hand found one of his and thus reassured, she sighed contentedly.

Jane smiled sadly to himself. His Lisbon could never admit to personal weakness but he'd seen the trauma she was struggling with. Earlier when he'd finished his shower he'd taken the time to watch her sleeping. It was incredible that such a slight, delicate package could have overcome two strong, armed men and saved them from Red John. She'd paid a price doing so, however, and an even greater one for what followed.

There were dark smudges under her eyes and a catch in her breath courtesy of her broken ribs. Even in sleep she looked aged and tired and Jane felt like a shit for having dragged her into his mess. He'd turned her into an accomplice to murder, despite his best attempts to avoid that possibility. He wondered how and when he'd be held to account for his violation of her principles.

Only the remoteness caused by the burial of his memories prevented him from tearing up. He owed her so much. It had been no sacrifice on his part to feign weakness in order to help her cope. Indeed, as he felt her burrow into him, he realised this was no sacrifice at all. Even despite his exhaustion and dulled emotions he couldn't deny the comfort of a shared bed with someone he trusted. It was his last thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Lisbon woke first and acting on instinct, rolled out of bed. She'd taken two steps towards her clothes when she remembered this wasn't one of her rare one night stands. Torn, she looked back to the warmth of the bed, but now she was up there was really no justification for climbing back in.

A glance at the clock told her it was half past eight. She had time for a quick shower before reaching out to the team to co-ordinate their arrival at Slater's house. Jane woke a little later and wasn't surprised to find himself alone. They'd found comfort in each other but sentiment was out of place while things were so chaotic.

The team were on their way to meet up with them in Calistoga before they all went on to Moses. Jane and Lisbon waited for them in a quiet diner. It was a subdued breakfast with both of them just picking at their food. Their usual bickering was absent as they sat side by side in a booth table facing the entrance.

Despite a good night's sleep they were both still exhausted and growing heartily sick of the faint buzz and nausea brought on by powerful painkillers. Jane decided he wouldn't be taking them anymore. He needed to be at his sharpest for when they went through Red John's house.

Lisbon surreptitiously watched Jane. Not surprisingly, he was on edge. What was surprising was him not trying to hide it from her. She wasn't sure if this was a step forward in him trusting her or the fact he was simply no longer able to maintain the façade.

"Can't be long now," she said, making idle conversation in order to distract him.

Jane didn't seem to hear but then then a moment later he turned towards her.

"Please… don't tell them about what… they don't need to know… I mean I know it wasn't my fault but please…

"…Shhh," Lisbon soothed him with a touch on the arm. "They don't need to know. I understand." She was silent for a second, then frowned. "Jane, if you didn't want to go to the house... I'd understand completely." He made a noise of protest but she overrode him. "Listen to me for a minute. You need professional help. In fact we both do. Why don't I…"

"… You can't yet," he objected. His tone was low and insistent. "I wish to god we could just quit this nightmare, believe me I do. But while Red John's minions are still around we have to lay low until we can take the fight to them."

Lisbon's shoulders slumped in resignation. She couldn't deny the truth of Jane's words. Their best bet was to try and push through and personal cost be damned. Hopefully there would be time afterwards to repair themselves.

"OK Jane. But promise me, if things get too much you tell me and we'll work out a Plan B."

Lisbon's eyes were dark with worry and her misplaced concern nearly broke Jane's heart. "OK Lisbon, I promise."

When Cho, Rigby and Van Pelt joined them it was a reunion fraught with emotion. Not knowing who to go to first, Van Pelt opted to sling an arm over them both. Then Rigby came over the top and hugged the three of them. True to form Cho remained on the outside. Unbending a little, however, he squeezed Jane's shoulder and gave Lisbon a respectful nod.

The team were desperate for details but the diner was no place for a discussion. The walked to a nearby playground where Lisbon gave them the bare bones of Red John's death. She made light of their ordeal with Ethan and Edgar and while the team knew there must be more the story they didn't press.

Eager to wrap up before more difficult questions were asked, Lisbon suggested they get on with their mission to secure and search Liam Slater's, aka Red John's house.

Slater's house was located in the remote outskirts of Moses. Van Pelt's research revealed it was a cash purchase through several property trusts ultimately belonging to Eisenschnitt Pty. Ltd. There was a long term rental contract with Liam Slater for a consideration of $100/month.

The house stood on a freehold and a screen of trees to either side ensured privacy from the neighbours. The seven acres of land that formed the property consisted of unimproved woodlands. The team stood respectfully behind Jane as he stood outside the front door. At his elbow Lisbon reminded him the team would have to clear the house before he could enter. Jane nodded irritably. Weariness was dragging him down, along with an extreme reluctance to have anything further to do with Red John. His nose wrinkled at the smell of latex from the thin gloves he was wearing. Lisbon had missed no opportunity to take advantage of his unusually cooperative state.

For form's sake Lisbon knocked heavily on the door. When there was no response, Cho stepped forward and smashed the door open with a ram, allowing Lisbon, Van Pelt and Rigsby to efficiently clear the premises. On entering Jane immediately noticed the heavy envelope propped on the side table in the entrance hall. The red smiley face appeared to have been drawn in blood, as were the bold strokes addressing the letter to him.

Reaching for the envelope took a monumental effort, Jane's arm felt like it was made of lead and he flashed back to years ago when he'd come home to find Red John's note pinned to his bedroom door. It was the same dread, the same reluctance to make real what he already knew to be true. This time there was no smell of blood and yet he knew he was about to open the door to a fresh horror.

He walked into the living room and collapsed onto a rich burgundy leather couch. He was dimly aware of Lisbon whispering instructions to the rest of the team. He swallowed heavily and worked open the envelope.

 _My dear Patrick,_

 _Welcome to my home! The instructions contained in this letter, along with various other materials in this house will complete your education. Years ago, when you first reached out and invited me to become acquainted with your wife and child I could never have imagined how far you would come. Your family suffered exquisitely but what a noble purpose they served. They were the catalyst for your awakening._

 _I'll admit I underestimated you at first. When I spent that delightful evening with your family I never expected us to cross paths again. You were merely an arrogant, money grubbing fraud who had to be put in their place. But a year later there you were, bending your considerable will towards meeting with me. I had to respect that dedication, your willingness to connect. But I get ahead of myself. I'm sure you have other questions. I want you to think carefully… What do you most want to know?_

 _…_

 _What really happened with your wife and child?_

 _That fraud Kristina once said your daughter didn't feel a thing, but you knew better than to believe her. Children are remarkable things, don't you think? In some ways they're better equipped to deal with horror than their adult counterparts. Maybe their nightmares are closer to their waking lives? In any case, Charlotte was a such good girl. I carefully explained to her that she was to stand in the corner and watch. I really took my time and made my desires very clear. If she watched but kept completely quiet, I wouldn't kill her mommy, but if she made much as a squeak I would show no mercy._

 _You Janes must be made of strong stuff. I'm convinced the dear mite didn't make a noise until after your wife was already dead… When it was her turn your little girl didn't even protest, you see she felt she deserved it for killing her mo…/_

Jane's hands started shaking so much he couldn't read further. He tried to drop the horrid document but his fingers wouldn't open. He whipped his arm through the air to tear the paper loose, swearing all the while. "GODDAMMIT! THAT FUCKING BASTARD! GODDAMMIT, GODDAMMIT I WISH I COULD FUCKING KILL HIM AGAIN!" He started hyperventilating and in his memory palace an earthquake was shaking his mountain to pieces.

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD, THAT EVIL FUCKING BASTARD!" Tears streamed down his face and oblivious to Lisbon who watching white faced from the doorway, he upended the couch and started kicking at the white lining of its base. A wooden slat tore painfully into his shin but he ignored it, kicking new holes in the linen until Lisbon crashed into him and bore him away. They ended up against a wall with Jane bawling shamelessly. The other agents appeared, only to be waved away by Lisbon.

She regarded the sobbing consultant in her arms and felt nothing but guilt and misery. Even dead, Red John still had his vicious claws hooked into Patrick Jane, hell bent on twisting and warping him and causing further misery. He shouldn't have been made to go anywhere near Red John's house but here he was suffering further because they needed his insight. The irony that just as Jane had emotionally finished with his obsession he should be compelled to plunge in again wasn't lost on Lisbon.

Her heart ached with compassion and she would have done anything to take his misery on herself. In her heart she forgave him for having tricked and handcuffed her. Events had proven Jane to be a better man than he gave himself credit for and far superior to what Red John thought he'd become.

She watched as he desperately tried to regain his composure, tried to put on a brave face for her sake. She was under no illusion; he was doing this for her alone and the imperative of ending Red John's conspiracy required Lisbon to let him. As she calmed him down and wiped away his tears she felt contempt for her actions. If there were truly justice in the world she'd drag Jane into her car and drive off never to return.

Out of nowhere, Edgar's brutish hand grabbed her roughly by the shoulder. Acting on instinct, she shoved Jane out of her lap and was half way to drawing her sidearm before she realised it was Cho. Her number two regarded her impassively, a question in his eyes.

"Sorry Cho, you startled me," She tried to reassure him even as she tried to dispel the image of Edgar bursting through the prison door and rushing at her. Lisbon tried for a reassuring smile but it only made Cho step back in concern.

He shifted his stance and crossed his arms. "Maybe you should take Jane outside, he doesn't need to see what's in here."

Lisbon hated herself a little for eagerly seizing the lifeline. She helped Jane to his feet and let him out the door. His lack of protest was further evidence of the sea change he'd undergone when it came to Red John.

He was still Jane, however, and on the point of leaving he turned back to the team. "You should take that couch to pieces, I'm pretty sure there's something hidden in there."

There was a small rose garden beside the house and they sat down on a small bench which looked out over the bushes. The surroundings failed to sooth Jane and his legs moved restlessly as he tried to calm himself with a breathing exercise. Lisbon was slumped beside him, the beginnings of a tension headache pressing against her right temple.

She reviewed what had happened inside and made one of the most difficult decisions in her career. Her reaction to Cho touching her was proof positive she was suffering from post-traumatic stress and Jane must have a laundry list of issues given what he'd endured. To think they could help close out the Red John case was foolish and dangerous.

It was a galling admission but she was in no condition to lead the team. To persist in doing so was dangerous and to expose Jane to the contents of Red John's house was to risk his permanent breakdown. She nodded sadly to herself. It was time to let go for a while and heal. Cho was more than capable of taking over. Placing a gentle hand on Jane's knee she told him to stay put, she'd be right back.

A call to Hightower formalised her decision and laid the groundwork for her next steps. She re-entered the house and informed Cho he was the acting team leader until further notice. She made her apologies and promised the team she'd be contactable once they had all the information that could be pulled from the house.

Lisbon went back outside, retrieved Jane and explained they were going to leave the team to finish searching the house. Jane looked like he was about to protest, then seeing something in Lisbon's eyes he nodded in resignation.

Five minutes later they were driving away, hopefully never to return. Jane remained passive, content to let Lisbon make all the decisions. They made a stop in a nearby town where Lisbon burned a fair chunk of their remaining cash to buy clothes and other necessities. She made another phone call, this time to someone they'd helped out on an earlier case.

Just as she hoped, Jean Travers, proud owner Harmony Getaways, was more than happy to offer a cabin to the CBI agents who saved her son from a false murder conviction. Destination secured, Lisbon began the drive to Lake Tahoe. It was a long way short of the professional help they both needed, but perhaps a little space to breath would be enough to let them regroup before the next big push against Red John's network.

Lisbon glanced over at Jane and he tried to reassure her with a broken smile. One thing was certain, if one of them faltered, the other would surely step up to lend a hand. After having come through so much they would surely find the strength to sustain each other. They were partners in the truest sense of the word. Now and forever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Consoled**

 ** _A/N: Apologies for the delay with this chapter, it was a real struggle to get out._**

Grief rose through Jane as relentlessly as an incoming tide. It started at his toes; memories of walking the Malibu shore with Angela, watching their precious child totter ahead and exclaim in delight at each new discovery. It moved up through his legs like a cold ache, intensified by the phantom sensation of Charlotte throwing herself into his lap, of his wife putting a steadying hand on his thigh when he got too carried away.

It enveloped his groin, cold and dead; the mad flowering of his love reduced to withered petals and rotting stems, memories of their passion forever rent by the depth of his loss. The horrific death of Charlotte - miraculous fruit of their love, turned any hope of comfort to lifeless ash.

The sickness that pooled in his belly was tediously familiar. It was where his grief hid, waiting for any opportunity to burst forth and turn his day to bile. It lived there like a coiled serpent, venomous and vicious and with a razor sharp temper. The slightest stirring of memory was enough for it to flash forth and sink it's fangs into the loops of his intestines, or his liver, or his heart. It was only when he truly lost himself: on a case teasing Lisbon, inside a book or maybe holding onto a single moment of natural wonder that he was ever able to forget. It was forever present, a nagging, a sense of unease, a guilty reminder of the magnitude of his folly. He'd killed his wife and child! The very thought was monstrous, the hammer blows of grief shattering.

Those blows often fell on his chest, blows so deep and intense they stole his breath away. The fight to draw air as desperate as his wish to see his family again. This day the grief was less violent though no less gentle. It rose up through his lungs until he felt he must be underwater. To draw breath was to suffocate on his tears. His throat convulsed in horror as the sea of grief rose up through his neck. He clamped his teeth shut lest the ocean be vented on Lisbon and drown her as well. Instead it climbed higher, into his brain, the pressure increased until he felt his skull must explode. His only recourse was to choke out a sob. A tiny release of the tension that threatened to drive him mad.

It was a show of weakness he desperately tried to shut down. A man didn't cry; it was a lesson drummed home over and over by his father. To cry was to be weak, to show vulnerability. A man who showed vulnerability lost agency and respect, and soon after, everything else. Alex Jane drummed it home over and over. _"Be a man and don't cry. It's women who cry and then you cash in or kick them out."_ A man carried his own water and was beholden to no-one.

Jane flicked his eyes at Lisbon but she paid him the kindness of focusing on the road. Unfortunately his cursed perceptiveness didn't spare him the glitter of moisture on her eyelids. For all that they shone in the California sun like tiny diamonds they were tears of pity, he was certain. Maybe even with a touch of disgust that her partner was such a mewling pathetic mess. She couldn't possibly see him as a man, certainly not anymore.

It made him reflect that maybe what had been done to him by those young sadists had been the natural consequence of what he was. Surely if Alex Jane had been in that position they might have beaten and murdered him by let him keep his dignity as a man. For a second the car seemed to tilt and he was in Joplin Missouri, quaking in fear as memories screamed hot and shrieking from the other side of the sealed gate of his memories.

Jane drew one shuddering breath after another, trying to master the sobs determine to break free of his body. He needed to catch his breath, find a bit of control. If he could just do that then maybe he could last through to Lake Tahoe without further humiliation. He tried to picture the beauty of the lake but ended up fixated on how good it would feel to walk into its depths until he disappeared forever. Perhaps at the bottom the enormous weight of water would counterbalance the pressure of his grief and he would know peace.

Lisbon was gripping the wheel so hard her hands were starting to ache. The Jane's distress had subsided but his body was still wracked by the occasional stifled sob. She was caught in a dilemma. Pull over and offer what little comfort she could or press on heedless to their destination and try and deal with things there. She'd chosen to take the scenic route through the Eldorado State forest, thinking the natural beauty might do Jane good. Now she was cursing her choice for dragging out their misery.

They were driving between the majestic trees but Jane seemed oblivious. A closer look showed him to be slightly turned away from Lisbon, hunched up and with his hands clasped to his belly. Lisbon was just thinking he had a greenish tinge to his face when he spoke.

"Lisbon. Pull over."

The sedan eased efficiently to the side of the road and Jane barely made it out before heaving at the base of towering conifer. Lisbon stood awkwardly to the side while he was noisily sick. It was quickly over. A combination of the cool, crisp air and the bile purged from his stomach had Jane physically revived. Lisbon handed him a bottle of water which he sipped gratefully.

By happy chance they'd pulled up close to a rest stop with a few park benches with a magnificent view of a valley below. She tugged Jane by the hand and led him to the lookout.

They sat side by side, taking in the unspoiled vista. In the still and quiet, surrounded by trees that had stood before Columbus landed, their trials and tribulations were cast in the context of the wider world. No matter their miseries or triumphs, the forest would endure and the millions of creatures it supported would go about their lives oblivious to anything but their own tiny worlds.

Jane's breathing eased. His grief didn't recede but it became less intense. He was quiet a long time until he felt Lisbon shivering beside him. He slipped his jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. She didn't object, didn't even remark on it, just craned her neck to see how he was doing.

Jane reflected this was bravery of a different sort. Lisbon, who normally hated sharing feelings, was willing to do whatever it took to comfort him. She'd no doubt chosen the route through the forest in the slight hope it might offer him solace. It was another sacrifice because her normal method was more direct. She took pleasure in driving from A to B in the most efficient way possible. Jane took a moment to appreciate his friend, and doing so, it was suddenly the right moment to talk.

"My Charlotte was a brave little girl. I'd like to think she'd have grown up to be a little like you. She would have stood up for what was right, never taken a backward step. Always been there to help those who needed it. Angie was like that too. We used to say our Charlie girl had my brains and her good sense. She was the best of both of us, almost all the good things and none of the bad. My little girl was the most precious thing in the world." Jane's mouth tightened into a tight line and he blinked a few tears from his eyes.

Not wanting him to stop talking, Lisbon offered encouragement. "I would have loved to have met your family, Jane. I would give anything for that to happen."

Jane attempted a weak smile. "I know. But they've been gone a long time now. A long time." He lapsed into a short silence, then spoke up again. "I've tried to understand, you know. I've tried to understand why I can't let them go. I've done a lot of reading on the subject and most people, they eventually move on." He looked at Lisbon. "We've seen it ourselves. On cases that go to trial, often you can see the survivors have come to accept the tragedy. You accepted your tragedy."

Lisbon remained silent, scared to break the spell. She contented herself with giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

Jane frowned, trying to find the right words. "Charlotte and Angela were my whole world. They…" he gritted his teeth against the sadness. "…they loved me. I know that as surely as I breathe. They loved me and I loved them but I couldn't keep them safe." This time when he broke down Lisbon was ready for it. She dragged him to her breast and held him while his grief was finally allowed to leave his body. She found herself crying as well as everything came pouring out, even the details of Red John's letter.

The sun was dipping into a spectacular sunset when Jane finally pulled himself together. He'd finally noticed how cold he was and that he was shivering uncontrollably. He also saw Lisbon was positively blue in the lips so he hustled her back to the car. They waited for the heater to blast some warmth into their bodies and then Lisbon popped the car into gear and resumed their journey to Lake Tahoe. Emotionally wrung out, Jane was asleep in minutes.

Lisbon had called ahead on the final run into Lake Tahoe and the lights in their cabin were on and casting a cheery glow. Inside the aroma from a thick pot of stew awoke Lisbon's appetite as she moved their belongings into the room. She read the contents of the short note left on the counter and unfolded the tea towel covering a fresh baked loaf of bread. A bottle of good red wine had been allowed to breathe on the counter beside two generously sized crystal glasses.

The mood was a little too romantic for Lisbon's purposes but there was no denying she and Jane needed a good feed. A few minutes work had the food plated up, wine poured and chilled water set out in glasses. She went out to the car to fetch Jane.

He woke at her first touch, sleep mussed and disoriented. Lisbon saw his shoulder slump with the recollection of all that happened. She wordlessly offered her arm and he pulled himself out of the car. His nostrils twitched at the aroma coming from the house.

"Lisbon, did you cook that?"

That earnt him a snort. "As if. Jean left it for us, come in before it gets cold."

They fell to with an appetite that surprised them. They were far from okay but their bodies had reached the point where sustenance overrode more delicate sensibilities. The wine was rich and heavy and they polished if off between them. They were mopping up the last of the stew with chunks of bread when Jane finally spoke.

"I don't want to talk anymore today, but I wanted to say thank you. You're a better friend than I deserve."

Lisbon's frowned to hear him run himself down. "You're a pretty amazing friend too, you know."

Jane regarded her evenly for a second. "Friend's don't trick friends by handcuffing them and leaving them vulnerable to a serial killer. I could make excuses for it by I choose not to because I can't promise it would have gone any differently if I had my time again."

Lisbon's easy rebuttal died on her lips. Despite the pleasant fullness from the meal and the slight buzz from the wine she couldn't quite forget the pain of that betrayal. She blinked. "I forgive you Jane, but it's not something I'll easily forget."

Jane accepted her words. "I wouldn't expect you to, but I will promise to always put you first from now on. There's nothing more important left."

Her friend's words made Lisbon frown. It felt like there were layers of meaning to what Jane had said but she was too tired and vulnerable to want to puzzle them out." She laid a hand on his arm to take the sting from her next words. "No more talking tonight, I'm beat. It's time for a shower and bed. If I'm lucky I'll sleep for a week."

"Amen, Lisbon, Amen." Jane was more than happy to let things rest, his own honesty had come as something of a shock. He sat at the table and waited patiently for Lisbon to finish, anything to delay going to bed and facing the dreams that would inevitably come.

After a moderate length of time Lisbon emerged running a comb through her hair and encased in a thick fluffy bathrobe. Jane grabbed his go bag and limped into the bathroom. He was tired and the regime of meds, bandages and disinfectants was an unpleasant and wearisome chore.

Lisbon threw some thick knots of wood onto the fire and then lingered to enjoy the heat. It didn't take long for the blissful warmth to drag her tired eyelids downwards. It was past time for sleep. She walked past the camp bed Jean had obligingly set up and crawled into the sumptuous king bed that dominated the cabin. Relishing the feel of the cool, expensive linen on her cheek, she slid across to the far side and fell asleep.

Sometime later it was Jane's turn to consider his options. For an indeterminate period he contemplated Lisbon's sleeping form. She was barely visible under the duvet and he'd have barely know she was there were it not for her dark hair fanned across a pillow. He was cold and hurting and an emotional wreck. It would be the easiest thing in the world to slip in beside her tiny body and consume whatever she had left to give. Maybe he could even assuage his conscience a little, tell himself he was giving as much as he was taking.

He leaned over brushed some errant hair from her face. She didn't stir, not even when he laid a hand against her cheek. A long sigh of regret moved through his body.

 _"_ _When you kill her you'll be truly mine, Patrick."_

Jane's heart froze in his chest. Snatching his hand back he spun to face the room. There was only the crackle of the fire and shadows against the walls. His mind dived inwards, following the old carney circuit to Joplin Missouri. The mountain had split asunder and the great steel door was slightly ajar.

Inside his mind he screamed in fury and slammed the door shut and willed a great torrent of molten steel to roar in and congeal into a lake of solid metal. He carefully went over the area, looking for any breech and was eventually satisfied.

He turned his senses outwards and was in the cabin again. Everything was as before, except for the slight wheeze of Lisbon's breathing. Her pain meds were wearing off. Jane carefully checked the doors and windows, nooks and crannies. Then he fished out Lisbon's painkillers and fetching a glass of water, brought her to partial wakefulness and gave her the tablets.

By the time he was done he was trembling with exhaustion. He climbed into the cot bed, not too dissimilar from his attic hideaway and lay still. Sleep eluded him for some time as he fearfully replayed Red John's voice in his mind. He was dry eyed but miserable. After a day of intolerable grief he now had something worse to reconcile. The reckoning he'd hoped to delay would not be denied much longer.

Lisbon woke late in the morning, dry mouthed but otherwise much restored by her sleep. She drained the half glass of water Jane had left her in one long, greedy draught. On observing Jane asleep in his cot she felt a slight pang of rejection, then logic reasserted itself. They were colleagues and friends. Close friends certainly but sharing a bed was not part of the deal. Watching him sleep, she was moved by a strange yearning. What she felt for this man was a complex tapestry of many threads. They'd been close for a long time but recent events had added many new strands to their bond. True, those additional threads were spun out of pure horror and yet there were now so few secrets between them. They knew each other's natures better than most married couples.

The thought frightened her. For all their closeness she couldn't see that translate into something normal, conventional. Conversely, what they did have would make any other connection pale into insignificance. Was she doomed to care for a man who was likely damaged beyond repair? She'd grown into womanhood under similar circumstances and she didn't want to go through that again.

Her contemplation of Jane had drawn her closer and without conscious thought she ran her fingers through his tousled hair. Even in sleep he looked exhausted and lines of tension radiated from his jaw. He was not well and she suddenly wished her fingers could pass through is skull and soothe his mind. Something eased in Lisbon's heart. Jane was not her father. At the point of crisis he'd retained his humanity and resisted the call of the monster.

For all his faults he was a good man and a devoted friend. Her resentment at his betrayal melted under the heat of her compassion. She could forgive his transgressions because she'd felt the truth in his promise of the night before. Jane would have her back no matter what. It was a strange new feeling, to trust that someone could be the rock against which she could stand against the whole world. It gave her confidence she'd see off her own demons in the days to come.


	8. Chapter 8 - Damaged

**Damaged**

 _ **A/N: Apologies for any typos or rough spots. It's been such a struggle to get this out I've decided to publish what I have before I drive myself mad.**_

Jane awoke to the ghostly remembrance of fingers passing through his hair. He could hear Lisbon rattling around in the kitchen and it made him smile. There was something so grounding and reassuring listening to a grumpy Lisbon trying to get her caffeine fix. It was a constant, a tiny piece of firmament to which he might anchor his untethered existence.

The kettle whistled on the hob and Lisbon had her mug of instant ready in record time. She took a scalding swallow and grimaced at the taste. She would have to get in a supply of something drinkable if they were going to spend any time here.

Without conscious thought she poured a little milk into a teacup then added the hot water and dropped in a teabag. Lost in thought she watched the tea turn from milky white to a muted amber. Jane appeared beside her, lured by the scent of his treasured brew. He inhaled deeply and took a measured swallow. His exhalation was that of a man easing into his comfy chair.

He turned to thank Lisbon and saw her expression as she took another swallow. Jane frowned, then took an inventory of the kitchen's wood panelled cabinets and drawers. A glad cry heralded the discovery of a coffee plunger and a quick search of the freezer unearthed a packet of premium ground coffee. It was the work of a minute before the kettle was whistling again. Working with his usual grace and efficiency it wasn't long before an aromatic concoction was ready to be served. Approaching Lisbon he scooped up her half-drunk instant coffee, then stifled her indignation with the entirely superior blend he'd made her.

The smile Lisbon sent his way was truly radiant. Jane rooted through their supplies and pushed some pain meds in her direction, then doled out his own, larger portion. Without prior consultation, like an old couple entirely familiar with each other's routines, they shuffled out the front door to sit at the bench overseeing Lake Tahoe. The early sun was a welcome balm to their abused muscles, for the vicissitudes of recent events still lay heavy upon them.

Lisbon was taking a late morning shower when Edgar lunged at her. She flinched, then slipped, clutching at the shower curtain for support. When the rings tore loose she wailed in dismay. Reacting to her distress, Jane ran to the bathroom and found Lisbon shivering on the floor. Crouching awkwardly he hugged her until the worst of her panic attack was over. Snagging a bathrobe he helped her up and enclosed her in its welcoming folds.

A few minutes later he had Lisbon in a chair in front of the freshly stoked fire. He stood behind her, towelling her hair dry and then carefully combing out the strands. Lisbon suffered his attentions wordlessly, a sign of how off kilter she really was.

Her shoulders were hunched in misery. "You must think I'm really pathetic," she choked out as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

Jane gently smoothed them away. "You're still the toughest, bravest woman I know. Always will be." He fought back tears of his own. It was monstrous, what his Lisbon had endured and he knew the worst of it was her perceived inability to help him.

"Why aren't you a complete blubbering mess?" It came across a bit snappier than intended but she was incapable of nuance with her emotions swinging so freely.

He took no offence. "I cheated. I suppressed the memories of what happened."

Lisbon was silent for a long moment. "Could you do the same for me?"

Jane shifted uncomfortably. He hated hearing her so vulnerable. "You don't want to do that. What you're going through is much healthier. I'm just delaying the inevitable and the longer it takes to come out, the worse it will be. I just hope you've recovered a little by then so you can look after me."

Lisbon reached up and took his hand. "Recovery sucks." The petulance to her tone reassured Jane they were past the worst of it. His free hand smoothed her hair back over her shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck. He marvelled anew at how slender it was. He could almost span it with one of his hands and it wouldn't take much effort for him to crush her throat..

Jane shuddered and broke off contact, Seeing her hurt reaction, he exaggerated his pain and dropped carefully into the other chair flanking the fire. To seal the deception he gave Lisbon a warm smile before turning to contemplate the fire. That was twice now he'd had uncharacteristic thoughts of violence towards Lisbon.

He'd never had such thoughts before no matter how angry or frustrated he might have been. Indeed he rarely entertained violent thoughts towards anyone, with the chief exception now dead. Was it some strange new manifestation of trauma or was it something more sinister? He briefly regretted having locked away his memories. Just what had been done to him, apart from the obvious?

Jane shivered despite the fire and noticed Lisbon doing the same. He wryly acknowledged the irony of Lisbon reaching an emotional state where she could accept his comfort, only for him to be unable to give it. It simply wouldn't do. With a groan he levered himself out of the armchair. A few minutes later he dumped a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor and made a cosy looking nest. It only took a moment's glance in Lisbon's direction before she joined him and was safely enclosed within the folds.

Jane hugged Lisbon close, trying to halt her trembling with his body. He worked hard to fill his mind with pictures of giving comfort, hoping to avoid another flash of violence. By the time the shakes subsided he was so weary he slid down and fell asleep with his head cradled in her lap. A few minutes later Lisbon leaned over sideways and allowed sleep to claim her as well. Too long denied the comfort they truly sought, they slept peacefully through most of the day.

Jane woke to find his hand curled around Lisbon's neck. It was merely placed there, exerting next to no force. He could feel her pulse thrumming through his fingers, the delicacy of her skin. Jane broke out into a cold sweat. Somewhere, in the back of his mind he knew there were images of him crushing her throat, of his strong fingers digging into her windpipe, of sitting and watching clinically as she clawed and gasped for air. Lisbon's look of shock and betrayal pieced him to the core couldn't have felt more real. .

Concentrating fiercely he moved his hand from her neck and backed away from their cosy nest. He became aware of the harness of his breathing, as if he' run a mile.

Perhaps sensing something was wrong, Lisbon began to stir. Thinking quickly, Jane told her he was going for a walk and fled the cabin. The waning light did little to provide comfort and the chill air soon dispelled the warmth soaked up from the fireplace. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Lisbon hadn't followed him, then allowed the shakes to take over his body.

Jane gazed out over the cool lake, trying to empty his mind of the horror he'd nearly perpetrated, or imagined he might perpetrate He balled a fist and pounded it into his thigh, trying to use the pain to bring himself under control. He choked back a sob, then another. The unfairness was monstrous. Lisbon needed him and he couldn't be what she needed. The trick he'd pulled with his memories was coming back to haunt him in ways he'd failed to anticipate.

He considered unlocking the vault in order to see how a what Red John had implanted in his mind. Even with a considerable effort of will, his courage failed him before had got half way to Joplin. However bad he was now, he'd be that much worse once he unleashed the storm of memories.

He concluded he needed to distance himself a little from Lisbon, or at the least be around people who could stop him if he succumbed to a murderous attack. What to tell Lisbon and how? The last thing he wanted was to leave her with a sense of rejection.

Jane was still brooding over what to do the following evening when they finally ventured out of the cottage to a nearby steakhouse recommended by Jean. Lisbon watched Jane as he toyed with his food and fidgeted with the cutlery. When he raised and lowered his glass for the third time she'd had enough.

"Whatever it is, just come out and say it."

Jane caught himself reaching for the glass again. His eyes darted at Lisbon's then away. "I need to get back on the case."

"What?" Lisbon couldn't hide her surprise.

He finally looked at her in the eye, allowing her to glimpse the fear that haunted him. "I need to get busy before I go out of my mind. I needed a few days to get over the worst of the physical injuries but that's finished with now. I can't sit around waiting for when I fall apart."

Lisbon placed a hand on his arm. "Jane. Listen to yourself. Nothing you're saying makes me think you're ready to go back onto the case. _I'm_ not ready to go back to the case. Besides, I haven't even received updates!"

Jane huffed in frustration. "What are we doing here Lisbon? Are we getting better or are we just hiding? If you think we need professional help we're not getting it here…"

"…Jane," Lisbon tried to halt his words.

"…Lisbon. If you won't let me go back to work then I want you to take me to a mental health facility first thing in the morning."

Lisbon stared at Jane in shock. She was almost completely certain he was bluffing and yet the conviction in his tone and the troubled look in his eye made her scared to call it out.

Jane modified his tone. "I need to return to the case. The sooner it's done the sooner I, we, can move on. Red John's dead and his network is trying to go to ground and we're sitting around some lake."

Lisbon bit off a rejoinder that would have placed the blame of that squarely on Jane's shoulders.

Interpreting her look, Jane had the decency to look away, nevertheless he continued pressing his case. "We need to close the book on Red John's network, I can't go through life looking over my shoulder.

His partner disagreed. "This is a big mistake. For both of us. Why not give it a few more days and then if you still feel the same way we can revisit this discussion."

Hating himself a little, Jane changed tack. "I understand if you feel like you're not ready to go back and I don't expect you to follow me. Just call Hightower and…"

His voice trailed off as Lisbon regarded him with a level gaze. "The only way you go back is with me at your side. As your friend and partner there's no way I'm letting you go it alone."

Her consultant quirked a strange, half smile. "I should say no, but I won't." He gazed at her intently. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you. We won't be chasing bad guys, just helping from the sidelines."

Conflicted, Lisbon dropped her gaze. Jane's offer to protect her was ludicrous and they both knew it. And yet…. The sentiment behind it was utterly sincere and the glow of his regard and affection warmed her through, even as part of her wondered if she was letting him talk her into a very bad idea.

"I'll call Hightower in the morning but I can't make any promises. She'll probably tell us to keep the hell away and attend counselling."

"Oh she'll let us," said Jane quietly. "His network must have been powerful and far reaching. They'll need all the help they can get."

Lisbon was already having second thoughts. "Promise me that if it gets too much you'll let me know. We are both going to need professional help and it can't be put off forever." She swallowed heavily. "We could attend sessions together, if that would help. That way," she gestured vaguely, "you wouldn't have to face it alone."

The vulnerability in Lisbon's face was almost too much for Jane. He reached out a hand to comfort her, then reeled from a flash of him smashing a fist into her cheek. His reaction had clearly surprised Lisbon and she was staring at him as if he'd grown a third eye.

With an effort of will he summoned warm smile. "I might just take you up on that Lisbon. Who knows, maybe with the help of a shrink we can finally tackle your control issues."

" _My_ control issues?" Lisbon's voice rose an octave. "If hypocrisy was a diagnosable condition you'd be a terminal case!"

The argued back and forth, both immensely reassured by the return of their old affectionate banter. That night on the couch, Jane lay unsleeping, trying to fill his mind with gentle thoughts. He just needed to hold out of one night and then things would be better. The case would take his focus off Lisbon and best of all, they'd be staying in separate rooms.

His eyes drooped with fatigue. Red John's network might prove another mountain to climb and he was bone weary. Again he felt the nag of not knowing what had been done to him, and his strange desire to hurt Lisbon. One thing was certain, he needed to help crack the case as quickly as possible. He couldn't imagine he and Lisbon keeping it together for more than a week or two.


	9. Chapter 9 - Returned

**Returned**

 _ **A/N: Not much to say, this chapter took way too long to write. Hopefully things will progress more smoothly after this.**_

Lisbon was as good as her word and placed a call through to Hightower in the morning. After a preliminary discussion around Jane's health and Lisbon's, the conversation shifted awkwardly in the direction of both parties trying to hint at the possibility of a return.

By the time the call was wrapped up 20 minutes later there were firm plans in place for Jane and Lisbon to check into a discreet but expensive hotel in Sacramento, with a 10am briefing in Lisbon's room set for the next day.

Lisbon got off the call with mixed feelings. She couldn't deny the sense of purpose she'd derived from being back on the case. Perhaps Jane had been right, that the best thing in the short term was to be productive rather than sitting around the cabin waiting for the other person to fall apart. Pity partys really weren't her thing, and nor were they Jane's.

Nevertheless, the facility with which Jane had predicted the outcome was irritating. Yet again she was left with the feeling the world was some sort of Rubik's cube that Jane could manipulate at will to get the outcome he wanted. It was an uncharitable feeling, especially because Jane wasn't always right, and he'd suffered terrible consequences on the occasions he'd been wrong.

Offering a quick prayer for strength and guidance she headed back into the cabin. As always, her faith was a source of comfort and she was more at peace with what they were about to do. Besides, if Jane started cracking wise about having been right about Hightower, she could always punch him in the arm.

The next morning Cho delivered his update on the Red John case to the intimate crowd of SCU agents gathered in Lisbon's hotel room. Despite her keenness to be active again, Lisbon's attention wandered aimlessly before finally settling on the immaculate presence of Patrick Jane. The man in question was clean shaven, perfectly coiffed and clad in one of his trademark suits, remarkable only for having been tailor fitted earlier that day.

His lively eyes danced from Cho to Hightower and back, before leisurely playing across Van Pelt and Rigsby and coming to rest on Lisbon. Catching her look he gave her a conspiratorial wink before returning his attention to Cho.

The perfection of his act made the breath catch in her throat. Jane had more front than a street full of shops. Lisbon cast a rueful glance down at her own outfit. Her clothes might be equally new and well fitting, but she'd never be able to carry the ensemble off with Jane's élan. She was also painfully aware of the damaged aura she was still radiating. She'd stiffened involuntarily in Grace's embrace and when Rigsby had spread his arms win in anticipation of a hug she'd ducked back as if he'd swung a right.

The team commendably turned a blind eye to the awkwardness but it still curled around the room like smoke from an unwelcome cigarette. Lisbon's peace of mind hadn't been allayed by Jane's entrance; all radiant smiles, warm hand clasps and light hearted tone. Had she not held that broken man in her arms only days earlier, Lisbon would never have credited there was anything the matter with him.

As was so often the case with her feelings for Jane, respect and admiration warred with envy and concern. An act could only get one so far, even for a player as proficient as Jane. With a shake of her head, Lisbon forced her attention back to Cho who was winding up his brief.

Hightower thanked Cho, then turned her attention to Lisbon and Jane. "I didn't want to ask you to return to the case but you can see why I did. On top of recruiting his fanatical acolytes, Red John has managed to create a secret society called the Blake's Association that has infiltrated law enforcement throughout California.

Until we can get a handle on how deep it goes, we can't take the risk of broadening our investigative team. We need to proceed carefully and patiently, going through Red John's records to see how many people we can identify before we close the net. Thoughts?"

Jane tapped a finger against his lips and waited for the room's attention to focus on him. "I think you're going about this all wrong." He shot an apologetic smile in Hightower's direction.

Cho crossed his arms in displeasure. "Why do you think that? I agree with Hightower, a careful investigation is the smart play."

Jane shook his head decisively. "Won't work, Cho. Red John will be missed any day now, if he hasn't been already. You can't cover up his absence and once word gets out his acolytes or closest followers in the association will get close enough to the truth of what happened to either come after us or go to ground. We don't have the luxury of time."

"That is a risk but I don't see we have any choice." An edge of impatience was evident in Hightower's voice. She wasn't happy with the approach either but days of going over the options hadn't produced a better line of attack.

Jane further pursued his line of reasoning. "This isn't the time to be caught with a defensive mindset. You see this Blake's organisation as a monolithic entity that will snuff out any danger to its existence. It's not. It's a collection of self-serving people loosely bound together by secret society clap trap and the seedy brotherhood of cops."

He held up a placating hand. "No offence meant, but you have to admit the cops have a habit of protecting their own. The point is, there is nothing a secret society hate's more than the secret being out. I say we go public. Not only advertise the death of Red John and the details of the Blake's Association, but also publicise the recognition sign. We shine the light on this conspiracy and give it so much publicity that trying to use the phrase _'Tyger Tyger'_ is far more likely to get them arrested than it is to get them help.

Then, once the word is out you have plenty of time to start researching names and making arrests. You can also watch to see who goes to ground, they'll likely be members too. As the net tightens and you make more arrests, they'll turn on each other and speed up the process. These aren't honourable people, if they were they wouldn't be members of Blake.

"What about retribution?" Lisbon interjected. There's going to be a lot of angry Blake's Association people after whoever brings it down."

Jane was dismissive. "To what purpose? They were being protected and now that's gone. They don't care about Red John and once the cat's out of the bag there's no point in going after any of us. Revenge just increases the likelihood of them getting caught. No, the only ones we need to worry about on that score are the disciples. What have you found out about them?

Cho exchanged a glance with Hightower, who gave him a minute nod. Face grim, he placed a large journal on executive suite's writing desk. "Red John was obsessed with you, saw you as his successor. We found this journal in his house. It was written for you, kind of an instruction manual for carrying on his legacy."

Jane sat down carefully, his face so studiedly neutral I might have been carved from stone. "As I was starting to suspect. Is there anything useful there?"

Cho exhaled. "Red John was a complete nut job but in among his semi religious ramblings he does mention several disciples by name. He confirms our suspicions on Hardy Dumont and Rebecca Anderson. He also mentions a Todd Johnson, Miriam Gottlieb, Lorelei Martins, Eva Nuncio, Brady Fields and Tanya Eriksen. Given the evidence of their activities, we've found enough to bring them all in on charges." Anticipating Jane's next question he continued. "There's no evidence any of them had to do with the murder of your family."

"I'll have to look through that folder, see if there's anything more to be gleaned." Jane's lack of enthusiasm for the job couldn't be plainer. Regathering himself he turned his attention to Hightower. "What's your call? Do you want to go after them in the shadows or drag them screaming into the light?"

Hightower took a moment to assess her agents. While all were neatly presented there was no denying the marks of stress and fatigue they all bore. Nor was she fooled with regard to Jane. He might scrub up impressively but he was still teetering on the edge of ruin and Lisbon didn't look like she was in much shape to prop him up.

In the end the decision wasn't a hard one. A large covert operation would only play into the hands of a secret organisation and her best agents were in no shape to prosecute a long war. "The disciples will be arrested over the next 12 hours. Once they're in custody we'll go public and do it the way Jane suggests. If we do it right and call in an external law enforcement agency, they'll have nowhere to hide." Her expression turned grim. "This is going to get ugly. Be prepared to see friends and colleagues implicated. The press on this is going to be a nightmare and the reputation of the CBI will be trashed. No-one is going to thank us when this is over and we'll be lucky to still have our jobs. Despite that, it's the right thing to do and I promise to fight your corner as hard as I can to make sure you're protected."

The meeting rambled on for another half hour as various details were ironed out, then the active agents left to carry out their duties.

The second the last of the them were out of the room, Jane wilted onto a couch. "Thank god that's over."

Lisbon came to his side in concern. "Jane. Why did you kill yourself putting up such a brave front. The team don't care…"

"…The team need the courage of their convictions. If we hesitate or take half measures we'll end up the victim of events rather than the drivers. I needed to convince them beyond the shadow of a doubt this is the right course of action."

"Is it?" Lisbon probed.

Jane shrugged weakly. "It has to be," he said simply.

Normally Lisbon would have argued, if only to make sure every angle had been considered. Instead she collapsed next to him. Jane's attention was fixed on the journal sitting on the desk.

"Don't." She said quietly.

He shot her an apprehensive glance before crossing over to the bureau table. Lisbon moved to his side and Jane's hand found its way into hers. She felt the tension in his body and knew he was nerving himself to make a start. His grip tightened as he leaned forward to turn over the red leather cover.

It took a long time to go through the journal. Lisbon tried to read along with Jane but at times the horror of the material made her turn away. Several times Jane's encyclopaedic knowledge of Red John made him identify other potential acolytes from oblique references in the text. Each time Lisbon called or texted Hightower to pass on the information.

At some point the perusal had moved to the couch and when it was finally done they were too beaten down to even move. They merely sat there silently, side by side. Lisbon's hand was still in Jane's and she endured his crushing grip with stoicism. She little doubted it was easier to bear than the dreadful emotions stirred up in Jane.

Eventually she broke the silence. "I'm glad we killed that sonofabitch."

Jane exhaled loudly. "Thanks to you, Lisbon. Thanks to you." He lost himself in his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "I'm going to have to ask you for something more." He glanced at her nervously, gauging her reaction. "Very soon now I'll be finally done with Red John and when I am, there's some place I'll need you to take me. Will you do that for me?"

Lisbon placed her other hand on his. Her touch made him realise the force of his grip. A dark niggle in his mind urged him to crush her hand to a pulp. With an effort he let go, after running his fingers over her hand by way of apology for the rough treatment. She shot him a puzzled look. "Of course," she said while surreptitiously flexing her aching hand. "Where?"

"I'm not sure yet, I don't have all the details. I'll let you know." Mindful of the violent urges that had abated but not disappeared, he made his exit. Lisbon's quickly repressed look of disappointment felt like a stab to the chest but he didn't dare stay longer.

Safely in the privacy of his own room Jane washed his face with cool water and gazed at his reflection.

The weight of repressed events was bearing down on him and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it together. Being around others had helped, and it was with mixed feelings he'd learnt his violent urges didn't extend to the rest of the team, not even Grace. Whatever suggestion had been placed had only one target, the person he could least contemplate hurting.

He picked up the phone to order room service then dropped it again. Not even a perfect plate of eggs was going to make him feel better. He lay down on his bed, arms folded across his chest. If he daren't access his memories, he could at least attempt to fight the influence of the temptation.

He carefully pictured being in the same room as Lisbon, the look of happiness that was her immediate reaction and how it was quickly tempered by concern. He imagined taking her hand in his and stroking it gently. Like a tide of dirty water from an overflowing sewer buried in his mind, the desire to inflict pain rose within him. Rather than capitulate he forced himself to remember occasions when Lisbon had been compassionate and kind, brave and self-sacrificing.

There was one of Lisbon placing a gentle finger on his arm in the room where Renfrew had been killed. The Lisbon who gunned down a crazed husband and wife to save his life, the look of shock on her face, quickly mastered to go to the aid of the abducted girl. He recalled the way she offered to let him drive when he was downhearted, and finally, he allowed himself to recall the night of the high school reunion, where the devil in him had asked her to dance and she'd chosen to let go of her defences to curl up in her happy memories while cradled in his arms.

The whispers grew louder in his mind. It was Red John speaking of power and right and the endless wickedness of women. The voice assured him there was only one way to deal with a woman who got thoughts above her station and that was to cut on her and cut on her until she was whittled back down to an acceptable size. Pain and fear were the best methods of education and they fast tracked the moment of enlightenment when a woman accepted she was nothing except that which a man allowed her to be.

Red John's voice whispered on, gathering strength. Once Lisbon was completely demeaned and subjugated Jane would be free to do whatever he wanted with her. He could end her life with the caress of a knife against her throat or prolong her agony for hours or even let her live, safe in the knowledge she would crawl back for more whenever he so desired. The power was his to take and the best part was the more torment he inflicted, the stronger he would be and the less fear would ever master his soul. It was all there for him, Red John's voice promised him. Just on the other side of a hotel room wall.

Jane subconsciously gripped the sheets, striving to regain control. Shifting tack he pictured Lisbon as an avenging angel, making her grow in stature to the point where the thought of being able to harm her seemed ludicrous. An idealised image of Lisbon grew in his mind, one which threw attackers around like so many rag dolls. The one who put her body on the line time and again to protect him in a way that no-one else ever had, not even those who should have.

His new approached began to work. As Lisbon shone in his mind, Red John's wicked voice was pushed back into his subconscious. Eventually his thoughts fell as silent as his room. Jane fell back against the mattress, sweat soaked and exhausted. After a minute or two he clicked on the TV. Sleep would not be kind to him tonight.

It took two days for Hightower to get her plan of battle in order and call the press conference that announced the death of Red John and blew the whistle on the Blake's Association. She'd used all of her political clout to bring in the Austin office of the FBI to help investigate suspected cases of corruption. The impartial feds would be crucial in prosecuting wrong doers without risk of intelligence being leaked by embedded Blake members.

Jane and Lisbon were absent from the carefully crafted media announcement. Red John's demise was passed off as a lucky discovery brought about by a road accident. His acolytes were quietly rounded up and held in isolation. Fortunately there was ample evidence to provide not only grounds for their arrest but also the denial of bail.

As the arrests mounted and Blake's association members started turning on each other, Jane and Lisbon were pressed into service interviewing suspects. Working individually or together, or with others in the team they worked their way through dozens of corrupt cops and almost as many civilians who were sprinkled throughout the California justice system and ancillary law enforcement and security services.

They changed location frequently in order to protect them from reprisals but Jane's prediction proved accurate and no material threat to their wellbeing eventuated. It was the only mercy afforded them as the brutal schedule of interrogations gave them little chance of rest or healing.

They remained strong for each other. Though Jane shunned their former physical intimacy he found other ways to give Lisbon affection and comfort. She in turn attributed his remoteness to the trauma he wasn't able to fully repress. Ever the compassionate soul, she never uttered a word of reproach, if anything she was disappointed in her weakness for wanting to be in the company of a man who was clinging to sanity by his fingernails.

She dealt with her own issues by throwing herself harder into her work. For a while the 14 hour work days were enough to ensure she was too exhausted to dream. The consequences could only be avoided for so long, however, and any night off was guaranteed to result in waking to drenched sheets and body shakes.

Jane was quick to notice Lisbon's increased exhaustion after a day off. Playing on Lisbon's mother hen instincts, he took to making late evening calls, letting Lisbon believe it was due to his own night horrors. They took to synchronising their TV watching and exchanging a running commentary on whatever was on offer until the sound of Jane's voice lulled Lisbon into a dreamless sleep. For a functioning insomniac like Jane it was no trouble at all to help out a friend.

The rest of the team were equally driven in trying to stamp out all trace of Red John's legacy. As Hightower read through the reports and viewed the more high profile interrogations she could only shake her head a the depth of Red John's infiltration. Based on the data it was clear that his network had been expanding at an exponential rate and that within a few years his unwitting if self-serving accomplices could have numbered in their thousands. As it was she was confident the cancer had been largely cut free from Californian law enforcement. Her efforts had not gone un-noticed; there were standing offers from Homeland Security and the FBI, should she wish to leave the beleaguered CBI.

One strand of the investigation led Van Pelt deep into the Dark Net. There among the drug deals and child exploitation rings she found a special corner of hell which had been curated by Red John. After pausing to be violently ill she grimly catalogued the videos until she located the one she'd dreaded finding. She deleted it without hesitation and ran some cleaning software so no trace of it was left.

Red John's clientele were a small land exclusive group. With what she'd gleaned from the subscription list, they wouldn't be at liberty for much longer. With luck this particular nightmare would never come back to haunt Jane.

The culmination of the Red Jane saga ended with little fanfare. The repercussions had convulsed the Californian justice system to the point where the survivors were in no mood to celebrate. The final arrests were made; forced resignations and plea bargains ensured not many cases went to trial. Expediency was the watch word, lest the public lose all faith in one of the key foundations of society.

One fine morning Jane woke up in yet another unfamiliar hotel room to the realisation there was only one thing left to do. He took time to review the documentation he'd put together then stepped down to the lobby where Lisbon was waiting.

As the valet service retrieved her mustang, Jane turned his face to the sun. The air of Sacramento felt clean and filled with promise, as if the city itself realised the dark days of suspicion and corruption were finally over. That sentiment was clearly felt by Lisbon as well. Though still exhausted she smelt clean and fresh and her unbound hair was gently caressed by the breeze. Eyes sparkling at the prospect of another Jane surprise she looked over to him for directions.

Jane gave her an address an hour out of Sacramento and was relieved when she didn't quiz him on what it was. He made a point of bantering light heartedly with Lisbon, reminiscing over old scrapes and amusing anecdotes about the team. With an effort of will he forgot about their destination until he had Lisbon pull over on a verge overlooking a country retreat with carefully manicured lawns and bright white buildings.

Lisbon blinked in confusion, then blinked again to clear away tears as realisation dawned. Jane tried to smile reassuringly but a lump in his throat made it impossible. He retrieved a folder from the back seat and placed it in her hands. "I'm not sure how long I'll be in there, so I've named you as my financial and medical attorney.

"Jane," she cried brokenly.

He didn't answer, just got out of the car to breathe the air of freedom one last time. A car door slammed behind him and then Lisbon wrapped him in a fierce hug. In the pure Californian sunshine he was safe from Red John's compulsions and it felt nothing but good to be enfolded by Lisbon's slight frame and feel the deceptive strength in her arms. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her comforting scent. For a moment he entertained the tantalising belief that all he needed to heal was right there in his arms. He indulged in the delusion for a gentle minute until reality, in the form of a cloud passing across the face of the sun, reasserted itself.

"Lisbon, I couldn't have asked for a better friend than you. This isn't goodbye, this is an au revoir. Be sure to check up on me at least once a month, just to keep those frauds in white coats honest.

Words failed Lisbon, she merely tightened her hug. For a second their thoughts were completely in synch, recalling a moment months ago when they were trapped together in the farmhouse dungeon.

Jane continued. "I also want you to look after yourself. You're a lot stronger than I am but I can see what we went through is tearing you apart." He gently tilted Lisbon's head up until they were making eye contact. "Will you promise to get some help?"

At that moment, Lisbon could deny him nothing. "I will," she sniffed. "But you have to promise me to get better. I'm not going through all that crap if you aren't going to be there to listen to me complain about it."

Jane smiled through unwelcome tears. "It's a deal. Now let's get me checked in before I chicken out completely."

They held their embrace for another moment, then slaves to circumstance, returned to their car and drove down to the exclusive mental health facility Van Pelt had researched months earlier. Their way forward lay along separate paths but they shared equal faith in their ability to find a way back to each other again. Red John could not be allowed a final victory from beyond the grave, not when people good and true had endured so much to end his evil.


End file.
